The Two Faces of Love
by Janet2
Summary: A well deserved vacation for Steve has unforseen consequences


I took this story off of the list after getting two well rounded and well founded critiques. They both pointed out a GLARING error at the end of the story which I felt that I had to change along with a few minor ones. So here is the new, and hopefully, improved version with very grateful thanks to Tracy and Jo.  
  
The Two Faces of Love  
  
Lieutenant Steve Sloan closed the final folder on his desk with a self- satisfied snap and threw his pen down on top of it. Leaning back in his chair he linked his hands together and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, his muscles rippling as he did so. Looking up at the clock which hung over the door on the opposite side of the room he smiled, there were only thirty minutes to go until his shift ended, then he would be free for two whole weeks. Sighing deeply, Steve acknowledged to himself just how much he needed the break. The last few months had been really difficult. He had been seconded to yet another of the Chiefs taskforces and his workload had increased to such an extent that he only managed to get home to sleep and that only rarely. The investigation had been wrapped up a few days previously and since then Steve had been glued to his desk cleaning up the resulting paperwork.  
  
Hearing the door to Captain Newman's office open Steve hurriedly picked up his pen and tried to look busy.  
  
"Take it easy Sloan," Newman said with a smile in his voice then, glancing down at Steve's desk, he continued, "All finished?"  
  
"Yes sir," Steve replied, adding a little wearily, "just."  
  
"Right," Newman answered, "I'll make sure that all your paperwork gets to the Chief. You get off home and I DON'T want to see you back here for the next two weeks."  
  
"Yes sir," Steve was out of his chair and halfway through the door almost before he had finished speaking.  
  
Watching his retreating back Captain Newman smiled.  
  
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The next morning Steve woke to the aroma of freshly baked bread and cooking bacon. Rolling out of bed Steve pulled on a pair of light grey tracksuit trousers and a vest and wandered slowly up the stairs towards the smell. Pushing his way through the ranch doors Steve stepped into the kitchen. He smiled as he saw his father standing in front of the stove with a large cream chef's apron wrapped around his waist humming happily to himself as he cooked. Steve coughed and at the sound Mark turned and smiled.  
  
"Good morning son," he said.  
  
"Morning dad," Steve replied sniffing the air, "that sure smells good."  
  
"I thought that you deserved a cooked breakfast to celebrate the end of the investigation," Mark replied deftly slipping a couple of crispy bacon slices onto a plate which had been warming under the grill.  
  
Adding some scrambled egg and a couple of hash browns to the plate Mark put it down in front of Steve, who had already sat down at the table.  
  
"There you go son," he said, "get yourself outside that. There's also some fresh rolls cooling on the rack, I'll get them."  
  
Some while later both men sat back in their seats, plates empty and stomachs full, cradling a mug of coffee each.  
  
"That is the best meal that I have had in ages dad, thanks," Steve said.  
  
"My pleasure son," replied Mark, rising to his feet picking up the plates as he did so and carrying them to the sink, "So what are you going to do with the next two weeks?"  
  
Steve had also stood up and wandered across to stand next to his father. He looked out of the large kitchen window, "I'd like to get away for a few days."  
  
"I think that is a really good idea," Mark answered, his hands already in the warm, soapy water, "any thoughts?"  
  
"I do actually" Steve replied, "I thought that I'd go down to Baja."  
  
"Camping?" Mark enquired.  
  
"Not this time dad," Steve smiled, "I feel in need of a little bit of luxury so I'm going to hire a motor home, drive down to Guerrero Negro and do a little whale watching."  
  
"Is this the right time of year?" Mark asked.  
  
"Slap bang in the middle," Steve replied, "The grey whales start showing up in December and the last few leave sometime in April."  
  
"Do you think you'll be able to book up?"  
  
"I know I can dad," Steve responded, "I managed to find an hour a couple of weeks ago and have booked it up already. I am picking up my vehicle this afternoon and I'll be on my way in the morning."  
  
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Early afternoon saw Steve and Mark drive up to and stop outside a small, red brick, building. Extending out from both front corners of the building was a heavy chain fence which enclosed a large parking area which housed a vast array of RV's.  
  
They entered the building and walked up to the pine topped counter. Sitting at one of two desks was a middle aged man entering, in a slow two-fingered manner, data onto a computer. As he heard Mark and Steve's footsteps he looked up and smiled.  
  
"Good afternoon gentlemen," he said, "Can I help you?"  
  
"Yes," Steve answered, "My name is Sloan and I'm here to pick up the RV I have hired."  
  
"Ah yes," the man replied, "it's good to meet you Mr. Sloan. We have a few forms to complete and then I'll take you outside and we can run through a few basics."  
  
Pointing to the back door leading to the yard Mark said, "Do you mind if I take a look out back while you're busy?"  
  
"Not at all sir," replied the man, lifting up a flap in the counter, "we will be out in a little while."  
  
Leaving Steve to fill out all the forms Mark walked through a couple of desks and out into the parking lot. He looked around all the RV's that surrounded him in astonishment, he had never seen so many of them in all his life. He knew that people frequently hired them and took off around the country but it had never been something that he had ever done. He was also amazed at the range of sizes; some were small whilst some looked like caravans on wheels. Wondering which size Steve had hired Mark walked slowly around the lot marvelling at the varying interiors that he saw. Stepping into one the largest vehicles on the lot Mark's eyes widened in astonishment for the interior was nothing short of luxurious. There were three sumptuous single armchairs one of which was a recliner. Next to that, underneath a window, was a large three-seater sofa. All the cupboards were made of dark mahogany giving the interior a distinctly opulent feel. Looking out of the drivers' window he saw Steve walking across the lot with the clerk from the office. Stepping out of the vehicle Mark moved to meet them and as he heard the clerk saying to Steve,  
  
" ..your vehicle is over here Mr. Sloan. We'll just step inside and I'll run through a few basics with you and then you will be good to go."  
  
Mark waited outside and very soon Steve and the clerk stepped out onto the tarmac. Handing the keys over to Steve the clerk said,  
  
"I hope that you have a good time Mr. Sloan."  
  
"I'm sure I shall Mr. McNeal," tossing the keys in his hand Steve looked across at Mark and continued, "Okay, you take your car and I'll meet you back home later. I need to stop off at the mall, pick up some supplies and then pack."  
  
"Okay Steve, I'll see you later." Mark replied.  
  
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It was very early the next morning when Steve surfaced, woken by the alarm that he had set the night before. He had over four hundred miles to drive and he wanted, if he could, to arrive at his first stop later that day. An hour later having eaten a breakfast cooked by Mark, Steve stowed all his gear in the cupboard space available and set off.  
  
Late that afternoon Steve pulled into the RV Park that he had pre-booked. Knowing that what he wanted from this vacation was peace and quiet Steve had booked in at one of the smaller parks, with space for only twenty RV's but it had full services. Quickly he hooked the RV up and jumped into the shower. Perhaps to say jump was an exaggeration for the size of the shower didn't allow for much movement at all.  
  
Stepping out a few minutes later Steve wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the compact bedroom to dry and get dressed. Although he felt much better after the shower Steve decided that he didn't feel like going into the city for dinner after all and chose, instead, to make himself a meal from the provisions that he had brought with him.  
  
Putting the final plate back in the cupboard Steve looked out of the window and decided that it was still light enough to take a walk along the beach before turning in for the night. Locking the RV behind him and popping the key into his jeans pocket Steve made his way along the path which led to the beach. Stepping onto the soft sand from the stone path, Steve felt it give a little under his feet and he smiled to himself. He loved the ocean and the beach feeling somehow more complete when he was able to be near it. The sound of the ocean completed the relaxation process for the day and the minute that Steve's head hit the pillow he fell asleep and didn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky the next morning.  
  
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The roads were fairly empty the next day and Steve was able to make excellent time. Apart from a short stop for lunch he drove through the day and pulled into the Malarrimo RV Park and just after six in the evening. Again Steve had pre-booked and was directed to his site with the minimum of hassle and very quickly he had linked himself to the electric hook-up. After over nine hours on the road Steve had very little inclination to cook for himself so after a quick shower and change of clothes he walked across the site and entered the restaurant, his nose wrinkling in appreciation of the aromas that assailed his nostrils.  
  
Steve was greeted by the maitre d' and shown to a table which nestled up against the far wall giving him a full and unobstructed view of the whole restaurant. Looking around him Steve took in his fellow diners. At a table by the window there was, what Steve took to be a family. They all looked as if they were enjoying themselves and each other for, as he watched, all four burst into laughter at something the father had said. The son was laughing so much that he had tears running down his face and he was holding his sides. Moving his gaze further around the room Steve saw a few elderly couples and one young couple, obviously honeymooners, who had eyes for no- one but themselves. The maitre d' walked across his sight line and he automatically followed him. He was leading another solitary figure to a nearby table a tall, blonde woman dressed casually in blue jeans, a sleeveless white button through top and a pair of well worn cream sneakers. In her right hand she carried a large, glossy book. As she placed it on the table next to an empty wine glass Steve thought that he caught sight of a whale on the front cover. Wondering if she was a professional scientist or merely an enthusiastic amateur Steve didn't realise that he was staring until the woman looked up from her menu. She wasn't what normal convention said was beautiful but her face had an arresting quality. Her eyes were a deep blue and her small snub nose was only just big enough to hold the small gold-rimmed glasses she wore. Merely glancing at Steve she quickly returned her attention to her menu.  
  
The next few days took on a familiar pattern for Steve. He rose when he awoke, whether that was early or late, ate a leisurely breakfast and then made his way onto the beach for a walk. He didn't want to unhook the RV and drive it around all the time, so he found a small garage that rented motor cycles and hired one for the duration of his stay, enabling him to find some more out of the way places in the locality.  
  
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On the fourth day of his holiday Steve awoke aware of a small flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he couldn't figure out what it was and then he remembered that he was due to go on his whale watching tour that day. He ate his breakfast sitting on the steps of the RV and pondered the experience ahead of him. As a boy he had always been fascinated by whales, indeed one of his favourite photographs was of a large tail fluke disappearing down in the depths of the ocean. Steve thought that whales were some of the most majestic creatures on the planet and it had always been an ambition to see some close up.  
  
Along with his confirmation of his place on one of the tours Steve had received a list of recommended clothing to wear. A waterproof jacket, warm clothing or thermal wear, old shoes, sunglasses and sunscreen. Knowing that, for many people, a whale watching tour was a once in a lifetime thing the company also suggested the type of camera and film to use, recommending bringing extra batteries as well as a lens cleaning tissue and a hand towel. Having cleared his breakfast things away Steve busied himself with putting his 'kit' together in a rucksack. He was ready in plenty of time and wandered over to the tours office building situated next to the restaurant. He was surprised to see that he wasn't the first person there. The woman from the restaurant on his first night was already waiting outside the small building. Like Steve, she was carrying a rucksack and had her waterproof tied around her waist. Deciding to give friendliness another go Steve gestured with his head towards the closed door of the tour building and spoke,  
  
"I guess we're the real eager beavers of the group this morning."  
  
Looking round the woman stared at Steve for a few seconds with a bland expression on her face then, as if coming to a decision, she spoke.  
  
"I guess we are."  
  
Holding out his hand Steve said, "We're going to be spending a few hours in each others company so I guess we ought to introduce ourselves. My name is Steve Sloan."  
  
Taking Steve's outstretched hand the woman answered, "Hilary Bennington, good to meet you. Are you local or down here on holiday?"  
  
"Holiday." Steve replied, "I live in LA and decided to come down here for some peace and relaxation."  
  
"From a stressful job?" Hilary enquired.  
  
"Sometimes more than others," Steve replied, "I am a cop. What do you do?"  
  
Hilary answered, "I teach science at Grissom High School."  
  
"I know where that is," Steve said, "it's not far from where I live."  
  
"You live in Malibu? Isn't that a little expensive for a cop?" Hilary held up her hands in apology, "I'm sorry, that was none of my business."  
  
Steve grinned, "Don't worry about it, it's a normal reaction. I share a house with my dad. I live downstairs and he lives upstairs. It's our family home and, now that there are just the two of us, there is plenty of space. What about you?"  
  
"I'm only a hard-up teacher, I share a flat with three colleagues from work, and we get on really well." Hilary paused, and then added in a soft voice, "In fact, there have been times when I don't know what I would have done without them."  
  
Their conversation was interrupted at that point by the tour guide opening up the office and some more tour participants arriving, so Steve was unable to ask anything further. Everyone booked themselves in and when the coach arrived, they all made a rush for seats. To Steve's irritation he found himself sitting at the opposite end of the bus to Hilary. He was squashed into the corner of the three-seater back seat with the honeymoon couple from the restaurant on his first night. Unfortunately for Steve they still only had eyes, lips and hands, for each other and he spent the whole thirty minutes that it took to reach Scammon's Lagoon being nudged and jostled by the oblivious pair. The only thing that had made the trip bearable was the scenery which they passed on their way and the information that their guide was imparting.  
  
Steve was last off the bus and was pleased to see that Hilary had hung back from the rest of the group to wait for him. They moved towards the boat which was to take them on their expedition, one of a fleet of 23-foot outboard boats. The white paint glistened in the early Spring sunlight and provided a dazzling counterpoint to the crystal blue of the ocean.  
  
After a brief safety lecture the ten members of the tour climbed into the boat bringing with them a rainbow coloured pile of waterproofs, cameras and video cameras. The boat moved away from the shore making for the deeper water of the lagoon and Steve looked around him at his fellow travellers. By the look of some of them they weren't all natural sailors. There were one or two rather pale faces and they seemed to be concentrating very hard on their breathing. Of all of them it seemed that, apart from him, only Hilary seemed to be revelling in the gentle bouncing of the boat, the wind and spray buffeting their faces.  
  
Everyone sat in the boat as it bounced gently up and down across the waves their eyes constantly scanning the water for a sight of a tail-fluke or a spout of spray from a blow hole. Eventually one of the honeymooners, who had themselves come up for air, called out, "Over there!"  
  
All eyes turned in the direction of the pointed arm and saw, in the middle distance, a number of dark, indistinct shapes lying silent and still on the surface of the water. As they watched a long, dark shadow appeared from out of the depths a few metres from them and, without warning, an incredible blast of water shot up into the sky drenching everyone with the vapour.  
  
They watched as the enormous creature came to a halt to lay, motionless, on the surface. She was close enough that everyone was able to make out the pinkish coloured barnacles that had attached themselves to her back and head. They were able to say it was 'she', for their guide, who was well acquainted with all the whales that frequented Scammon's Lagoon, had informed them that they had nicknamed the whale Daisy and that she was a new mother.  
  
Steve was fascinated by what he was seeing and hearing and incredibly humbled by the trust which Daisy was showing them all by surfacing so close to them. A few seconds later the level of trust trebled as a smaller shadow appeared and then broke the surface next to her. Everyone in the boat held their breaths at this new development and waited to see what would happen next.  
  
The smaller whale, like all babies, never strayed far from its mother but was constantly on the move exploring, experiencing. To the accompaniment of clicking cameras and near silent whining of videos cameras, it played. Sliding over its mother's tail, under her stomach and lifting itself until it lay, out of the water, across her back. For a few seconds it lay there, one large dark eye staring back at its fascinated observers. Then, with a flick of its tail, it slid back into the water and glided forward until it was leaning against the side of the boat. Cameras were forgotten as everyone, taking it in turns, leant over the edge of the boat to stroke its head. It seemed like it lay there for ever but it was, in reality, less than a minute before it again flicked its tail and rejoined its mother. There was a moment of silent communication between them and the pair moved off together to join the rest of the group.  
  
Before they finally disappeared Steve managed to stir himself and put his camera to his eye and began furiously clicking, hoping that he would get something worthwhile. He was delighted, when he later downloaded the photos from his digital camera, to find that he had one magnificent shot of two tail flukes, one large and one small, disappearing under the water.  
  
For a few seconds an amazed silence fell over the boat before a soft murmur of chatter broke out. Steve looked at Hilary and saw that the tears which had sprung to his eyes were mirrored in hers. Moving closer he slid an arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. Although Hilary stiffened at his touch, she remained in the circle of his arm and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand sniffing, "What an idiot I am."  
  
"If that's true," Steve answered, "then so am I. It would take someone with little heart and even less feelings not to be moved by what we have just witnessed. I know that it is something that I will never forget."  
  
Eventually, to the sadness of the whole group their time out on the lagoon came to an end and the boat turned back to head for the shore.  
  
Getting back onto the bus Steve made sure that he kept close to Hilary so that they were able to sit together. He was doubly pleased and not a little surprised when, during the journey, he felt Hilary's hand slip into his. The journey back to the tour office seemed to be much quicker than the outward journey, as such journeys often are and before they realised it they had arrived at their destination. Steve and Hilary stepped off the bus, still hand in hand and, after thanking their guide they walked off together towards the motel.  
  
On reaching the motel entrance Hilary stopped and looked up at Steve, seemingly unsure of what to do and her hand flexed nervously in his.  
  
"I'd er......" she stammered a little, "I think I'd better go and clean up a little."  
  
"Me too," agreed Steve, realising that Hilary was feeling a little hesitant and needing some space, "Perhaps we could meet later for dinner?"  
  
"That would be great," Hilary agreed.  
  
"Seven thirty?" Steve suggested.  
  
"Fine," Hilary answered, "I'll see you then."  
  
As the door closed behind her Steve turned away and strode quickly towards his RV, his rucksack slung over one shoulder. Unlocking the door he climbed in and dropped the rucksack on the small dining table. Opening the zip he emptied the bag of its contents putting his camera, spare disc and batteries back in his camera bag. He took the towel back into the bathroom and stored it in the small cupboard underneath the sink. Stepping though into the bedroom Steve pulled the curtains before stripping off his clothes. Moving back into the bathroom he stepped into the shower pulled the curtain behind him and turned the shower on. He stood under the cascading water for a long time, his mind going over the events of the day. The sight of the baby whale playfully swimming around its mother, the large sunbathing pod in the distance and finally, the feel of Hilary's hand in his. With the recent demands of his job and Bob's, Steve had had very little time for any sort of personal life and, until he had felt Hilary's hand slip into his, he hadn't realised how much he had missed that feminine contact.  
  
Drying himself off Steve realised that the emotion of the afternoons experience had taken its toll and he suddenly felt very tired. Deciding that a short rest was in order, Steve pulled on the t-shirt and sweats that he slept in and sat down on the bed, reaching out to switch the radio on for some background music. He lay back onto the pillow and allowed the sounds of the Sixties to flow over him until he dozed off.  
  
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When he woke up sometime later it was getting dark and the Sixties music had given way to a retrospective on the life and work of Bob Dylan. Steve reached up and switched on the overhead light, blinking in the sudden brightness. Sitting up he peered at the clock and was surprised to see the LCD readout showing 18.45. After an unaccustomed afternoon sleep Steve's head felt very woolly and he decided that a quick mug of coffee would help to kick start his brain.  
  
Sipping his coffee, a few minutes later, Steve opened one of his wardrobe doors to pull out his favourite black jeans and a cream shirt. He quickly dressed, put his wallet and ID into his back pocket before pulling his leather jacket on. Locking the RV door behind him, he walked briskly across to the restaurant.  
  
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Hilary, too, had allowed herself the luxury of an afternoon sleep and, like Steve, woke up just in time to get ready for dinner. She stepped quickly into the shower to wake herself up and dressed in an attractive blue dress, its skirt falling in large, loose pleats at her calves. The dress had been her one concession of femininity in her packing, the rest of her clothes consisting of jeans, t-shirts and jumpers. Throwing a shawl round her shoulders she made her way to the restaurant.  
  
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Steve was already seated at a table when Hilary arrived. He looked up as she entered the restaurant and smiled gently, an appreciative glint in his clear, blue eyes.  
  
Even from across the restaurant Hilary was able to see the appreciation on Steve's face and, despite her best efforts at appearing nonchalant, she felt a gentle flush creep up her neck and face. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders Hilary made her way across the restaurant to Steve who, at her approach, had stood to greet her. Resting a hand gently on one shoulder he bestowed a soft kiss on Hilary's cheek saying, "You look terrific. Please, sit down."  
  
Hilary sat down on the chair that Steve was holding out for her, looked up at him and smiled. Even when Simon had been in 'caring mode' as she thought of it, he had never held a chair out for her or told her how good she was looking. She sat fumbling with her napkin unsure of what to say when Steve spoke,  
  
"I was very nearly late this evening. I fell asleep when I got back to my RV and only just about woke up in time."  
  
"Me too," Hilary admitted, "I wasn't sure whether to admit to it or not."  
  
"Well," Steve replied, "I must admit that having a sleep in the afternoon is not something I do very often. It usually only happens when my dad makes me."  
  
Hilary, who had a ready sense of humour, had formed an instantaneous picture in her mind of Steve being sent to bed by his dad, smiled. Steve caught that smile and returned it with one of his own.  
  
"I know how that must sound," he said, "my dad is a doctor and tends to be over-protective when I am injured at work."  
  
"Does that happen often?" Hilary wanted to know.  
  
"More often that my dad would like," Steve admitted a little ruefully.  
  
That interchange set the tone for the meal. It was an evening of light- hearted information gathering with an undercurrent of attraction. Much later, lingering over their coffee, Steve and Hilary were only brought back to the reality of the room around them by the clattering of plates and cutlery behind them by the restaurant staff. It was then that they realised they were the only people left in the room. After paying for the meal, Steve refusing Hilary's attempt to pay half, they left the restaurant.  
  
"It's not that late," Steve commented, "what do you say to a walk on the beach?"  
  
"I don't think I'm quite dressed for it," Hilary answered, looking down at her dress and high heeled shoes, "but if you give me a few minutes I will change into something more suitable."  
  
Deciding that he, too, would benefit from an extra layer they met up a few minutes later at the top of the path which led down to the beach. Although the moon was shining brightly in the sky illuminating everything it touched, there were still pockets of darkness along the path and Steve took Hilary's hand as they walked. Reaching the end of the path they stepped onto the sand and, as if of one mind, turned in the same direction and began walking. Hilary hadn't attempted to release her hand from Steve's' and they walked for a while in a companionable silence. It was Steve who eventually brought their perambulations to a halt. He took in a deep breath and sighed.  
  
"Are you alright Steve?" Hilary was a little concerned.  
  
"I'm fine," he answered, "It's just that I love the ocean with all its sounds and aromas. They never fail to calm me. I think it's one of things that I dislike so much about being in hospital, not being able to be near the ocean."  
  
"I know just what you mean," Hilary answered, thrilled to find someone who felt as she did, "I don't think that I could live too far away from the ocean. I particularly love standing by the edge of the surf listening to the sound the ocean makes as it trickles over the small stones. The sun reflects off of the water and the colours it produces are wonderful."  
  
She tugged at Steve's' hand, "Let's go and have a look now. The moon does it just as well."  
  
Stopping at the edge of the water Hilary looked down at the sparkling stones and, as always happened when she was ocean gazing, she lost herself in the tinkling of the water and the occasional flashes of light. She gradually became aware, however, that Steve was staring intently at her and not the stones. As she looked up Steve brought his hands up to cup her face and, bending his head, gently laid his lips upon hers in a soft caress. To her great surprise and in direct contrast to her thoughts, Hilary nevertheless found herself swaying into Steve's torso and rested the palms of her hands on his chest. Feeling her response Steve gathered her to him in a tight embrace deepening the kiss and, again, Hilary surprised herself in not pulling away. Gradually the kiss came to an end and she leant against Steve, all her nerve endings tingling.  
  
By mutual, unspoken, agreement both turned towards the path and with arms entwined made their way back up to the motel and RV Park. All through the walk back Hilary was trying to figure out how she was going to let Steve know that, whilst she had participated in and thoroughly enjoyed, the kiss they shared she wasn't ready to take it any further. She didn't think that she could cope. She was unaware that as those thoughts were going round in her brain that her body had tensed against Steve's and that he was fully aware of what she was thinking, without quite knowing why. Reaching the outer door of the motel Steve turned Hilary in his arms and said gently, "Would you like to come over to my RV in the morning and I'll cook breakfast?"  
  
It took a few seconds for the implication of what Steve had said to sink and then Hilary smiled a little with relief.  
  
"I'd love to." she answered, "What time?"  
  
"Eight thirty," Steve suggested, "It's the blue and cream RV fourth from the end of the third row."  
  
"I'll be there," Hilary said.  
  
Once more Steve bent down and gave Hilary a soft kiss, full of promise, and sent her gently through the motel door.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ Steve and Hilary spent the rest of their holiday in each others company. To Steve's unalloyed pleasure he discovered that Hilary loved motorcycles, although she had never actually ridden one. She was, however, very happy to give it a go and they spent many happy hours riding the bike wherever the whim took them.  
  
One evening, a couple of nights before they were due to return home, they sat together over dinner.  
  
"Hil," he had taken very quickly to using her nickname, "I've been thinking."  
  
"Careful there fella," Hilary joked. She had very quickly decided that Steve was a man to be trusted.  
  
Poking his tongue out Steve continued, "What would you say to travelling back to LA with me?"  
  
Hilary paused, a forkful of lasagne halfway to her mouth.  
  
"Together? In your RV?"  
  
Knowing exactly what was going through Hilary's' mind Steve reached across and took her hand.  
  
"Hil, no pressure. I just thought it might be fun to travel back together, give us some more time. I promise you that there's no hidden agenda."  
  
Hilary looked across the table and marvelled, not for the first time, at how well Steve seemed to be able to read her thoughts. When she spoke, it was very quietly, "I think it would be nice too."  
  
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Two mornings later Hilary left her room, paid her bill, made her way across to the blue and cream RV and knocked on the door. It was opened a few seconds later by Steve, his shirt open all the way down the front and hanging loose from his waistband. Despite the early morning chill in the air Hilary suddenly felt very warm.  
  
Leaning out, Steve plucked Hilary's bags from her unresisting hands and then stepped back to allow her to step inside. Looking around Hilary noticed that Steve's bags tucked into a corner of the RV. Not taking her eyes from them Hilary asked, "What are your bags doing out here?"  
  
"I've cleaned my stuff out of the bedroom for you," Steve answered, coming back out of the bedroom after depositing Hilary's bags on the bed, "I'll sleep out here."  
  
"I didn't want to turf you out of your bed," Hilary protested.  
  
"And I told you that there was no pressure," Steve returned before checking his watch, "Let's get going, we've got a long drive before we stop tonight."  
  
"Where are you planning to stop?" Hilary wanted to know.  
  
"A small RV park on the outskirts of Ensenada. I stopped there on the way down and it was fine," Steve answered.  
  
"Is there a restaurant?"  
  
"No," Steve replied, "but I am sure we can find a grocery store along the way and rustle up something for ourselves."  
  
"That sounds terrific," Hilary answered.  
  
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The roads were, once again, very quiet and they made good time. So much so that to make a quick detour to see one of Ensenadas' best sights, El Bufadora. It was a blow hole which thrusts ocean water up to thirty five feet up into the air.  
  
Drawing into the RV Park in the early hours of the evening, Steve was very glad to get out from behind the steering wheel. He stepped outside the RV and stretched his aching shoulder muscles.  
  
"Hells bells," he muttered, "I ache."  
  
"Come here," Hilary's voice came in his ear, pulling him back towards her where she stood on the top step of the RV, "I'm told that I give a mean shoulder massage, let's see if I can help."  
  
For the next few minutes there was no sound save for Steve's occasional grunts as Hilary's fingers found, and massaged, any number of tight spots on his shoulders. The touch of her hands felt so good and Steve knew that if he didn't break the physical contact soon he was going to turn, sweep her up into his arms and neither of them would get any food, or sleep, that night.  
  
Hilary was also wrapped up in the sensations that being able to run her hands freely over Steve's neck and shoulders when Steve moved away and she found herself massaging fresh air. She looked surprised into Steve's face.  
  
"Thanks," Steve said in a voice not quite as steady as he would have liked, "that feels much better. Er....do you want to shower first or shall I?"  
  
"You go first," Hilary replied, "I'll start preparing dinner."  
  
Steve stepped back into the vehicle and, after rummaging into his bag for some clean clothes, made his way to the bathroom. Hilary opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the food they had purchased earlier on in the day. As she prepared the vegetables Hilary desperately tried to ignore the running water of the shower and the unmistakeable sounds of someone washing themselves. She found herself staring intently at the closed door as if, by staring hard enough, she would be able to see through it. Somewhere, in the deepest area of her brain, she was astonished at her train of thought. So intense was the image that she had conjured up, she didn't hear the water stop running and was only brought back to reality by the door jerking open. Looking down Hilary realised that she hadn't got very far with the vegetables and began furiously chopping them up. She quickly finished them and popped them into a bowl ready for the microwave later after the peppered steaks were ready.  
  
"Your turn," Steve said, totally unaware of the train of Hilary's thoughts and was surprised when she blushed and bustled past him.  
  
Quickly grabbing some fresh clothes Hilary entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Soon water could be heard running again although, this time, it was Steve's imagination that went into overdrive. He managed to keep himself together so that, by the time Hilary emerged from the bathroom, he had the steaks prepared and in the small oven. He had also managed to hull and quarter the strawberries and whip the cream.  
  
During their shopping spree Hilary had picked up a bottle of white wine to go with the meal and Steve now took it out of the fridge to open it. Both knew that for wine buffs, red wine was better with steak they didn't care as both preferred white. He sat it in the centre of the table and placed a wine glass on either side of it.  
  
When the meal was cooked Hilary dished it up and carried both plates over to the table where Steve sat waiting. Sitting down Hilary found her knees catching on Steve's in the enclosed space under the table. Without speaking Steve parted his knees a little to enable Hilary to slot hers carefully in between. The close contact caused Hilary to shiver involuntarily and for a few moments she avoided Steve's eyes.  
  
Cradling the glass of wine in his hands, sometime later, Steve looked across at Hilary and spoke,  
  
"Hil, can I ask you something?"  
  
Hilary looked up from where she had been trying to spear her last piece of broccoli.  
  
"Sure," she said.  
  
"I don't want this to end," he answered, his voice low and serious.  
  
"That's a statement," Hilary, ever the teacher, corrected, "not a question."  
  
"Okay," he continued, "I'd like to see you again after we get back to LA. What do you think?"  
  
Hilary was silent for such a long time that Steve began to feel anxious. Then she spoke,  
  
"I think I would like that too."  
  
Steve's smile was one of relief.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ After they had cleared away Steve suggested a walk before they turned in, a suggestion to which Hilary agreed. They put on their jackets and wandered to the beach. Reaching out, Steve took Hilary's hand and together they walked along the sand and as they walked they talked. Steve told her some more stories about his dad, Jesse and Amanda whilst Hilary made Steve laugh as she told him about her students. However, Steve had the distinct impression that there was something that Hilary was avoiding speaking about.  
  
Arriving back at the RV Steve allowed Hilary to step inside first, shutting and locking the door behind them. At the sound of the lock Hilary whirled around and, even in the darkness of the RV, Steve could see that her face was ashen. He stepped forward and reached out towards her. He was shocked when Hilary slapped his hand down and backed away from him, the whites of her eyes gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
"Hilary?" he spoke carefully so as not to distress her any further, "It's me, Steve. Are you okay?"  
  
At the sound of his calm, measured tones Hilary seemed to come to herself a little and her eyes refocused.  
  
"Steve?" she sounded confused.  
  
"Come and sit down," Steve responded, guiding her to a seat and sitting down opposite, "What happened?"  
  
Hilary sat with her hands in her lap, twisting them nervously together. Finally she looked up and, to Steve's surprise, her eyes were filled with tears and one had escaped, running down her face.  
  
"I suppose that I owe you an explanation," she eventually spoke.  
  
"Only if you want to," Steve replied.  
  
"It was the sound of the key turning in the lock and the click it made. It brought back something that I would just as soon forget," she paused, "something that I thought I was well on the way to forgetting."  
  
A flash of insight struck Steve, "You were raped weren't you?"  
  
Hilary winced at the baldness of the statement but nodded.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asked.  
  
"I'm not sure what to say," Hilary answered.  
  
"Anything that you feel able to." Steve returned, "How it happened. Who was responsible?"  
  
Hilary was again silent for a while whilst she tried to gather her thoughts. Eventually she looked up and spoke.  
  
"I had been in a relationship with a guy called Simon Mitchell for nearly four years. It was never an easy relationship because Simon liked to have me to himself. He hated the idea that I might have my own friends and, over the time we were together, he managed to alienate or scare of all my friends. Gradually he got worse, so much so that it got to the point where he even tried to stop me going out at all and became jealous of any man who so much as looked at me."  
  
"Why did you stay with him?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"Why does any woman stay with an abusive partner?" Hilary rejoined, "Because deep down she has been brought to feel that she doesn't deserve anything better. Simon spent a lot of time telling me how worthless I was. The trouble is that there were times when he could be a positive joy to be with. Fun, kind, generous."  
  
"So what caused him to attack you?" Steve asked.  
  
"I had had to go back into work for a report evening with my students and, unknown to me, Simon followed me. He saw me talking to one of my male colleagues who had just been given a promotion. I was thrilled for him and gave him a peck on the cheek and a hug. Simon went home and waited for me. I arrived back at my apartment and he was there. He was waiting behind the door as I entered and locked the door with the spare key. The sound of that key turning in the lock echoed around the apartment and that is the last sound I remember hearing until a doctor spoke to me at the hospital."  
  
Enlightenment dawned at last for Steve, "So it was my locking the door that frightened you. I'm so sorry Hil, I was locking the door for security."  
  
Hilary reached out across the formica divide and took hold of Steve's hand.  
  
"I know that now Steve, but just hearing that sound freaked me out." She paused for a second before continuing, "I guess that sound always will."  
  
Turning her hands over in his and rubbing his thumbs across her wrists Steve said, "You have no apology to make Hil. Your reaction was perfectly normal. Tell me, have you spoken to anyone, a counsellor or something?"  
  
Trying to ignore the tingling feeling caused by Steve's thumbs Hilary said, "Yes I have and she is helping me. I don't think that even a month ago I could have spent time with you; I would have been too freaked out. I certainly couldn't have let you kiss me, let alone enjoy it."  
  
Steve looked up, "You enjoyed our kisses?"  
  
Hilary blushed a little, "I think you know that I did."  
  
"Can I kiss you now?" Steve asked.  
  
"Just a kiss?" Hilary asked anxiously.  
  
"Just a kiss," Steve confirmed moving round the table.  
  
Hilary had shifted in her seat as Steve sat down so that she was facing him. Aware that, if ever there was a time for him to be gentle and take it slowly, this was it Steve leaned in towards Hilary. Stretching one arm along the back of the seat and leaning the other on the table, he covered her mouth with his in a kiss. For a long time they sat there joined only at the lips until, feeling Hilary's mouth soften under his, Steve gradually increased the pressure. Lifting his hand Steve placed his hand around Hilary's' shoulders and held it there. As the pressure of Steve's mouth increased Hilary's head gradually slid backwards until it was resting on his arm. Her lips opened allowing the tip of Steve's tongue to dip in, tasting the sweetness he found there. Trembling a little, Hilary reached her arms around Steve's upper body pressing the palms of her hands against the base of his spine, drawing him as close to her as she possibly could. Lifting his right hand from where it lay on the table top Steve rested it at Hilary's waist, all his senses alert for any sign of distress or rejection. When there was none, and with fingertip care, he slipped his hand under the edge of her jumper. Her skin felt soft and warm to the touch and Steve slid his hand round so that is rested in the hollow of Hilary's back and gently began rubbing it in a circular motion. Against Steve's mouth Hilary made a soft sound of pleasure and she leaned farther back until she was almost lying horizontal on the cushions, prevented from doing so only by the restricted space. Aware that things had moved on farther than he had intended Steve raised his head.  
  
"Hil," when he spoke his voice was a little husky, "This is more than just a kiss. Are you okay with it?"  
  
Hilary, her emotions in total disorder, was unable to speak.  
  
"Hil?" Steve asked again, this time trying to sit up.  
  
"Steve."  
  
The one syllable uttered by the woman in his arms stilled any further movement that Steve was about to make.  
  
"Love me," Hilary asked.  
  
Steve stared down at Hilary, whose face was now as flushed at it had been pale earlier on, a question written all over his face.  
  
"Love me please," Hilary repeated, "but don't make love to me."  
  
Suddenly Steve understood and he got to his feet pulling Hilary after him.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked.  
  
Nodding, Hilary stepped past him and walked the few metres to the bedroom door and turned to look at him, a tentative expression of hope on her face. Steve joined her and together they stepped through the doorway.  
  
Hilary, her legs unable to bear her weight anymore, sat down on the end of the bed. Steve looked down at her, his expression a mixture of passion and compassion. Dropping a kiss on her hair Steve moved to close the curtains on either side of the bed so that the only light was from the moon streaming in through the doorway. Then he, too, sat on the bed so close to Hilary that he could feel the heat of her body through his jeans. Looking Hilary squarely in the eyes and, making sure that she understood what he was saying, spoke, "If, at any point, you want this to stop you only have to say."  
  
Tears glistened in her eyes as Hilary stretched out her hands and lifted Steve's to the neck of her blouse and its top button. With fingers that were unexpectedly shaky Steve began undoing the small, pearlised buttons that held the two edges of Hilary's blouse together. As the buttons were undone, one by one, the edges parted giving Steve a tantalising glimpse of what lay underneath. The last button dealt with, Steve was able to push the blouse from Hilary's shoulders, down her arms and finally to throw it onto the floor. When he moved his hands back to tackle the catch which was nestled in the middle of her breasts, Hilary stopped him. However, instead of bringing a halt to the proceedings, as Steve thought, Hilary actually wanted to join in. She raised her hands and began to open the buttons on Steve's shirt. Muscles quivering under Hilary's fingers Steve forced himself to sit still and do nothing. It wasn't long before his shirt had joined Hilary's on the floor and she was able to feast her eyes on the sight before her.  
  
She ran her fingers down Steve's chest towards his waistband and, as she did so, his stomach muscles quivered and undulated in response. Steve's hands reached for, and stilled, her hands as they reached the material of his trousers and moved them away. Then with great care, and practiced ease, he unclipped the small butterfly hook allowing her breasts to tumble into his waiting hands. A small purr of pleasure rumbled up from deep in Hilary's throat as her head and shoulders flopped backwards, only her hands resting on the bed preventing her from falling backwards onto the bed.  
  
His hands caressing her body Steve leant forward and placed a trail of kisses across Hilary's collarbone, tilting his head in order to pass underneath her head which had lolled sideways. Retracing his route Steve mouth made its way up the side of Hilary's neck, gently nipping with his teeth as he did so, until he reached her mouth capturing it in a kiss that left her shaking so much that her elbows gave way and she tumbled backwards onto the bed, where she lay looking up at him. Steve began to reach out in order to divest Hilary of the rest of her clothes when her voice came again.  
  
"You first," she said in a throaty voice.  
  
A small smile escaped Steve as, bending down; he quickly took off his shoes, tucking his socks neatly inside them. Then he stood and with a thumb and forefinger flicked open the button that lay directly over his belly button. Then he took hold of each side and slowly, so slowly that Hilary nearly shouted with frustration, pulled them apart opening the zip, tooth by single tooth. When the zip was fully open (Hilary having noticed that its progress seemed to be a little impeded near the finish) Steve placed his hands inside the waistband and pushed them down over his hips and knees until they reached the floor. Steve simply stepped out of them, kicked them into the corner of room and then joined Hilary on the bed never taking his eyes from her face. Hilary had shuffled up the bed and was now lying on one of the pillows.  
  
"Your turn," Steve whispered, as he reached out, for a second time, for Hilary's trousers.  
  
He snapped open the button he found there and took the zip fastener between two fingers and drew it carefully downwards. Hilary shivered as she felt his touch on her lacy underwear and wondered if she was going to be okay with what was to follow. Tucking his fingers inside her waistband and with the minimum of effort from Hilary drew her trousers down until they lay, in a bunch at her feet. He quickly took off her shoes and disposed of her trousers in the same way.  
  
Stretching himself out next to her Steve began to run his right hand up and down Hilary's body never quite reaching, always just skimming, the underside of her breasts. At the same time he was kissing her with a thoroughness that left her breathless.  
  
Eventually Steve's lips left Hilary's mouth and began to travel downwards at the same time that his right hand moved upwards. Whilst his fingers captured one breast his mouth captured the other, leaving Hilary to marvel that so simple an act could bring her so much pleasure. Before she had time to think too deeply Steve's hand was on the move again to be quickly replaced by his mouth. Winding a zig zag fingertip pattern down her torso he eventually reached the tiny lacy triangle of material which matched the, long since disappeared, bra. For a few seconds Steve ran his fingertips backwards and forwards along the edge of the elastic until, encouraged by the small sounds emanating from Hilary, he dipped them underneath the lacy edge.  
  
Hilary started to turn onto her side so that she could get closer to Steve and, perhaps, do some exploring of her own when her movements were stilled by Steve who had lifted his head and spoke, "No Hil. This is for you."  
  
Hilary's eyes, which had been half closed, flew open at these words and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Never, in her whole life, had she met a man who was more concerned with her, and only her, pleasure. She lay back onto the quilt, her arms stretched above her head and waited. Moving his body so that both his hands were free Steve hooked his thumbs under the elastic and, with Hilary raising her hips, slid her final item of clothing down her legs and off over her feet.  
  
Laying there completely naked, her body open to Steve's very appreciative gaze, Hilary felt him running his hands along the back of her calves, his lips following the same path over her shins to her knees. Hands gently tickled the back of them before moving round to run up the front of her thighs eventually meeting at their apex. Steve's lips had followed his hands as he, seemingly, kissed every square inch of skin between her knees and hips. Steve's hands continued their journey upwards leaving his mouth to pursue a gentle, sensuous but relentless assault on the very heart of her femininity.  
  
For a while Hilary laid there, her hips gently twitching in response to the ministrations of Steve's mouth. Gradually she became aware of a tightening which started deep inside her and grew in intensity until she could contain herself no longer and, as her hips rose off the bed, she saw thousands of lights like a gigantic firework display, flashing behind her tightly closed eyes. Steve quickly moved up her body, gathered her close to him and caught her mouth in a kiss which kept going until the firework display was only a memory and she lay, quiescent, in his arms. Closing her eyes, she slept.  
  
Waking up sometime later Hilary found herself still cocooned in the safety of Steve's arms as well as the quilt he had obviously wrapped around them both whilst she slept. The sensations that he had so recently evoked came flooding back to her and she smiled. Then, suddenly, a thought struck her and she looked up.  
  
"I ...er did, you erm...." she stammered, unable to finish the sentence.  
  
Taking her lips in a long, mind drugging kiss Steve murmured, "I told you, that was for you."  
  
A wave of pleasure, such as she had never known, washed over her and she carefully disentangled herself from the quilt and Steve's arms. Sitting up, she laid her hands on Steve's shoulders and pushed him onto his back and, reaching for the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts, whispered, "This is for me too."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
The sun was high in the sky before either Steve or Hilary awoke the next morning. During the night they had both turned on their sides and Hilary woke to find herself curled around Steve, her right arm around his waist and her left foot tucked in between his ankles. Reluctant to move though she was nature was calling very loudly to her and she slid off of the bed and padded to the bathroom. Exiting a minute later she saw Steve standing in the bedroom doorway, magnificent and totally unashamed in his nakedness. He smiled and murmured, "Hi there."  
  
Smiling shyly back Hilary sought for something to say, "I think I'd better have a shower."  
  
Steve's smile widened and he seemed to glide forward replying, "What a good idea."  
  
That morning Hilary learnt the benefits of confined spaces and sharing water.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Later that afternoon Steve brought the RV to a halt outside the apartment building where Hilary lived. Reluctantly gathering her gear together Hilary stepped out of the vehicle onto the sidewalk. Placing her bags on the floor she turned to face Steve, who had stepped out behind her. Sliding his arms around her waist Steve pulled her to him and, once again, reduced her to a quivering wreck with his lips.  
  
Very unwillingly Hilary said, "I've got to go. I am due back at work tomorrow and I have a whole lot of washing to do."  
  
Placing one last gentle kiss on her lips Steve let her go with the promise, "I'll call you tomorrow night."  
  
Climbing back inside he switched the engine on and pulled out into the traffic narrowly being missed by a silver grey Ford which zoomed past him in his blind spot.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Mark was on an early shift that day and, for once, had managed to leave work on time. He drew up in the driveway of the beach house at almost the same time as Steve. A huge smile spread across his face as he nimbly jumped out of his car.  
  
"Steve!" he called, waving at his son through the windscreen of the RV.  
  
Steve smiled and returned the salute. Quickly he turned the engine off and clambered out to greet his father.  
  
"Hi dad," he said, "have you been behaving yourself?"  
  
"Cheek," retorted Mark, "I only get into trouble when you are around."  
  
Laying arm across his dads shoulders Steve replied, "It's good to be home dad."  
  
"Come inside and tell me all about it," Mark answered, "I'll put the kettle on."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Opening the door to her apartment Hilary dumped her bags on the floor in the hallway. From the living room a female voice called out,  
  
"Hilary Bennington! Get your butt in here and explain yourself!"  
  
Smiling as she recognised the voice of one of her flatmates, Marsha, Hilary made her way into the main living area. Marsha, an art teacher, sat at the large dining table drinking a cup of herb tea. As Hilary rounded the corner she looked up an expression of mock outrage on her face.  
  
"Did I just see what I thought I saw out of the window?" she demanded, holding up a hand when Hilary was about to speak, "Don't tell me that I shouldn't have been nosing. I heard a vehicle draw up and thought it might be your taxi. Instead I see you climbing out of an RV only to have your face hoovered by a mouth attached to the most gorgeous hunk I have seen in many a long year."  
  
By this time the grin on Hilary's face had stretched almost to both ears.  
  
"That was someone I met while I was away," she said.  
  
"And......?" Marsha prompted, "that was not the farewell of someone you 'met while you were away'. I smell a serious story here."  
  
Hilary replied, "Well you will just have to wait until Grace and Victoria get home. I'll tell you all then. By the way, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I had one of my heads this morning." Marsha explained, "but, luckily, it had gone off by about two so I got up. Please, throw me a bone about this guy Hil, what's his name?"  
  
"Steve Sloan," answered Hilary, refusing to say any more and disappearing into her bedroom to unpack before Marsha could grill her further.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Steve sat on one of the kitchen stools drinking a cup of coffee telling Mark all about his vacation. Mark was fascinated to hear about the baby whale; however he was far more interested in hearing about Hilary. Steve had mentioned her, casually in passing, when he related the whale watching trip. Mark knew his son, however, and he was fully aware that when Steve made only casual mention of a woman that she was usually someone that he had a great deal of interest in. Mark also knew that to press Steve too early about a woman was not the best way to find anything out so, against all his instincts, he kept quiet.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Hilary's friends had no such qualms and, after an early dinner, sat her down and began to give her an interrogation that was worthy of Steve at his best.  
  
"Okay Bennington," said Grace, another of Hilary's flatmates, "what is this we hear from Marsha? You, lip locked with a hunk of the month?"  
  
"You went away to get your head together, "Victoria joined in, "and you come back with a guy in tow."  
  
"Trust me," Marsha said, "what was on the sidewalk was no 'guy', that was sex on legs."  
  
Hilary grinned, she was well used to her friends teasing and she knew that they were all happy for her. They had seen her through the very dark days after Simon had attacked her and had never let her wallow for too long in her misery.  
  
"Okay," she said, "give over with the thumb screws and the water torture. I'll tell you everything."  
  
"Everything?" Victoria questioned, "Just how much is there to tell?"  
  
"More than I thought possible when I left here last week," admitted Hilary.  
  
It was late into the night before the four friends went to bed and Hilary, at least, dreamt of a handsome, blue-eyed man who had managed to kick start her emotions.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Although Hilary had to go back to work the next day Steve still had a couple of days free and he spent the first of them doing his laundry and returning the RV. He also popped into Bobs to see how things were going there and caught up with Jesse who had a day off from Community General.  
  
"Hi Steve," he called as Steve entered the restaurant, "did you have a good time?"  
  
A reminiscent smile floated quickly across Steve's face as he replied, "Great time thanks Jess."  
  
Jesse Travis had been around Steve long enough to know the signs of a new love life however, unlike Mark, he had absolutely no qualms about grilling his friend. Pushing the chair opposite him out from under the table he said, "I smell a story. Sit, Sloan and give."  
  
Grinning, he knew that he hadn't fooled Mark with his nonchalant air about Hilary and had been grateful for a reprieve; Steve prepared to 'give' to his less reluctant friend. However he had no intention of telling Jesse everything, after all there were some things that ought to be kept private.  
  
When Steve finished speaking Jesse looked his friend up and down in awe and said, "Only you can go away to watch whales and come back with a new woman in your life."  
  
"I didn't plan it Jess," Steve protested.  
  
"I know you don't," Jesse replied, "that's what makes it so frustrating for us mere mortals."  
  
Steve grinned.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
After completing his chores Steve drove back to the beach house. Turning into the drive he almost caught the rear bumper of a large grey van already sitting there. Parking up, Steve walked around the side of the van and ran up the front steps. Entering the house he called out, "Dad, is everything okay?"  
  
Marks face appeared around the corner of the room and replied, "Everything is in hand son."  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time Steve came to halt next to where his dad was standing. He looked around the corner and saw two men in overalls hard at work replacing the glass in the doors which led out onto the deck.  
  
"What's happened?" he wanted to know.  
  
"I came home from work," Mark replied, "and found the doors smashed and the carpet covered in bits of glass. I also noticed a couple of rocks."  
  
"Have you called the police?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"There wasn't any point son," Mark answered, "There hasn't been anything taken so I didn't bother. It's obviously just vandals."  
  
"You really should report it," Steve persisted.  
  
"There are plenty of more important case for the police to be investigating son." Mark was adamant.  
  
Realising that he wasn't going to sway his father, Steve gave up. Despite his misgivings he realised that Mark probably was right although vandalism in their area, in any form, was rare. In fact the only time that the beach house came under any sort of attack was when they were all investigating a case.  
  
When he had seen the workmen out Mark joined Steve in the kitchen where he was eating a sandwich and quaffing from a can of beer.  
  
"Don't you want me to cook you something?" Mark asked.  
  
"No thanks dad, this will do me. I ate at Bob's earlier."  
  
"You know son," Mark answered, coming to sit down next to his son, "I really don't know how you manage to keep your girlish figure when you eat the rubbish you do."  
  
"It must be my genes," Steve replied, getting up and batting his eyelids at his father, "I'll see you later; I've got a phone call to make."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Hilary was, unfortunately for her, was in the bathroom when the phone rang. She had let slip that Steve was going to call that evening so, at the first sound of the phone ringing Marsha, Grace and Victoria all made a mad dash to pick it up falling over each other in the process. Victoria won but all three were laughing so much that it took her a couple of seconds to be able to speak.  
  
"Hello, can I........no Marsha......help you?" she asked, swatting Marsha's hand away from the receiver.  
  
"Can I speak to Hilary please?" Steve spoke through the giggles.  
  
"She'll be here in a moment......yes, Grace it's him," Victoria muttered to her third conspirator.  
  
"Did I hear the phone?" Hilary asked, coming out of the bathroom.  
  
"Er,no......" Victoria replied, attempting to hide the receiver behind her back.  
  
Seeing the movement Hilary grinned and held her hand out, "Hand it over."  
  
Steve, on the other end of the line, was listening to the by-play with a large grin on his face. He ought to introduce these girls to Jesse, he would think he had died and gone to heaven. Hilary's voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Hello?" she said."  
  
"Hi there," Steve's voice caressed her ears and caused a shiver to run down her spine, "how was work today?"  
  
"It was fine," Hilary replied curling up in an armchair, fully aware that Marsha, Grace and Victoria were sat on the sofa opposite and were listening to her every word, "what have you been doing today?"  
  
"Laundry, thinking about you, taking the RV back, thinking about you, eating lunch, thinking....."  
  
"I get the idea," Hilary grinned, although a gentle flush began creeping up her neck, a flush which she hoped that her friends hadn't seen.  
  
Marsha, however, wasn't known as hawk-eyes by her students for nothing. She noticed the blush and made sure that the others did too.  
  
There was a silence at the other end of phone which told Hilary that Steve had finished speaking and she shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate.  
  
"I'm sorry Steve. I seem to be living in a kindergarten," she said, poking her tongue out at her friends, "I missed that last bit."  
  
Steve smiled to himself, he felt for Hilary, knowing only too well how distracting Jesse could be when he put his mind to it.  
  
"I asked if you would be free for dinner tomorrow night?"  
  
"I think I can fit you in," she replied and then blushed again as her three friends broke into raucous laughter.  
  
"I'll pick you up at seven shall I?"  
  
Looking across at her friends, Hilary mentally gave in to the inevitable; Steve had to meet them sometime.  
  
"That'll be great, just ring the bell downstairs and I'll buzz you in."  
  
Now that they were guaranteed to meet Steve the next night, the other three girls drifted off to their respective bedrooms leaving Steve and Hilary to have the private conversation they wanted.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬`  
  
Hilary arrived home from work as early as she possibly could the next day and was soaking in a hot, scented bath by the time Marsha, Grace and Victoria arrived.  
  
"Are you there Hil?" they called.  
  
"In the bathroom," she replied and was unsurprised when the door opened and her friends entered.  
  
Marsha and Grace perched themselves on either end of the bath whilst Victoria, closing the toilet lid, sat there.  
  
"So," she asked, "what are you wearing tonight?"  
  
""I haven't thought about that yet," Hilary admitted.  
  
At this, Marsha leapt to her feet and rushed off. She came back a few minutes later with a short, figure hugging red dress. Hilary's eyes widened.  
  
"Marsha," she cried, "we are going to dinner not a hotel room for the evening."  
  
"You never know your luck" Grace quipped.  
  
"Didn't think you'd go for that," Marsha admitted, throwing the dress through the open bathroom door and pulling out, from behind her back, an outfit that was far more to Hilary's taste.  
  
"Now THAT I like," Victoria said, eyeing the bottle green trouser suit with approval.  
  
"So do I," responded Hilary, "when did you get that?"  
  
"I bought it whilst you were away," Marsha replied, "but I am willing, for a small fee, to allow you to borrow it."  
  
"Small fee?" Hilary asked, a little nervously.  
  
"You bring Steve back here for a cup of coffee after dinner."  
  
Hilary looked round at her friends with amused resignation.  
  
"I don't have a lot of choice do I?" she smiled.  
  
All three smirked and shook their heads.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
When Steve arrived Marsha, Grace and Victoria made themselves scarce allowing Hilary to greet him in private and to make a quick exit.  
  
Steve handed Hilary into his truck and moved round to the drivers' side and climbed in. Clicking his seatbelt into place he drew Hilary to him and gave her a long and very satisfying kiss.  
  
"You look gorgeous. That outfit really suits you."  
  
Hilary smiled, it felt really good to be in Steve's company again.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, "but the outfit came at a price."  
  
"Price?"  
  
"Mmmm, coffee with the LA branch of the Spanish Inquisition upstairs after dinner."  
  
"I don't mind Hil," Steve answered, "I am blessed, or cursed, with three people in my life who are exactly the same."  
  
"You dad, Amanda and....?" Hilary couldn't remember the last name.  
  
"Jesse, my business partner." Steve helped her out.  
  
"It can be a bit of a pain sometimes," Hilary admitted, "but...."  
  
"...we wouldn't be without them," they both finished the sentence together and then broke into laughter.  
  
"Are you sure you don't mind?"  
  
"Of course not," Steve replied, "I am sure that my dad will be pulling a similar trick very soon."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Pulling up back outside Hilary's apartment block at just after ten that evening Hilary looked across at Steve and, for about the fifth time that night, checked that he was still happy to go in.  
  
"Don't worry Hil," Steve answered, cupping Hilary's face with one large hand, swirling his thumb in circles on her cheek, "I want to meet your friends."  
  
"Come on then," Hilary opened the door and stepped out onto the road.  
  
Steve got out as well and had just locked his door when he heard the squeal of tyres and an engine roaring in the distance. He looked up and saw a dark coloured Chevvy racing along the road towards them.  
  
"Hilary," he yelled leaping over the hood and managing to drag her around to the front of his truck a split second before the car raced pat, missing Hilary by a scant few inches before disappearing off into the distance.  
  
Steve squinted at it, trying to memorise as much of the licence plate as he could. Wrapping his arms around Hilary, who was shaking so much so that she could hardly stand, he led her towards the front door.  
  
"Let's get you inside," he said.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Marsha, Grace and Victoria looked up as the apartment door opened, an expectant look on all their faces. The sight of Steve walking through the door his arms around an obviously distressed Hilary caused them to jump to their feet.  
  
"Hil!" "What happened?" "Are you okay?"  
  
They spoke in unison.  
  
Steve led Hilary to a chair and sat her down, kneeling next to her and looking up at Marsha.  
  
Hurrying to the kitchen Marsha quickly put the kettle on to boil and came back to stand in the doorway.  
  
"So, what happened?" she asked.  
  
Steve explained keeping his eyes firmly on Hilary's face, which had gradually regained its colour, and his hands firmly entwined with hers.  
  
"You ought to call the police." Grace suggested.  
  
At that, a smile crossed Hilary's face and a genuine chuckle escaped her.  
  
Grace and Victoria exchanged puzzled glances.  
  
"I don't see what's so funny," Grace said, a little huffily.  
  
Steve got to his feet and, holding out his ID, said, "Lt. Steve Sloan, at your service. Can I use your phone to call this in?"  
  
Having reported the incident Steve then bent himself to the task of soothing Hilary's nerves. To this end he was very successful and when he got up to leave she was much calmer. Standing at the door he wrapped his arms around Hilary and drew her head onto his shoulder.  
  
"Get a good night's sleep, sweetheart,"he said, "I'll give you a ring tomorrow evening and let you know what is going on."  
  
"Do you think that you will find the car?" she asked.  
  
"Maybe...,"he replied, "but my guess is that it was stolen and we'll find it trashed somewhere. Still, we may get lucky and be able to lift some prints."  
  
Lifting Hilary's face with his forefinger, so that she was looking into his eyes, Steve bent his head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Sliding her arms around Steve's waist Hilary drew him towards her, the same time darting her tongue out to stroke Steve lips. Steve made an indistinct sound in the back of his throat and opened his mouth, drawing her tongue in to tangle with his own. It was only the sound of the elevator doors opening that brought them back to a realisation of where they were. Drawing breathlessly apart Steve lay his forehead on the top of Hilary's head saying, "I'd better go, I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
Tenderly pushing Hilary back through the door to her apartment Steve rode down in the elevator to the ground floor. Driving back home he reflected on the evening. He had enjoyed the meal but, more than that, he had had a wonderful time with Hilary. They got on so well together and seemed to think along similar lines about many things. He felt totally at ease in her company and he thought, given what had happened with her previous boyfriend that she was at ease with him. Pulling into the drive he saw the lights on the deck were still on so he walked around the side of the house and made way up the wooden steps.  
  
Mark was leaning against the rail, which ran the entire perimeter of the deck, cradling a cup of coffee. He turned as Steve reached the top of the stairs and smiled,  
  
"Hi son, did you have a good evening?"  
  
"It had its moments," Steve answered wryly.  
  
"Dare I ask how?" responded his father.  
  
Succinctly Steve explained about the car and how close a miss it had been.  
  
"Is Hilary okay?"  
  
"A bit shaken, but she had calmed down by the time I left," Steve replied then, looking at his watch, he continued, "I'd better get to bed dad, I'm back at work tomorrow."  
  
"I guess I ought to hit the sack as well, "Mark acknowledged, "I have an early shift too."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ A couple of days later Steve was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. Laying down his pen he picked up the receiver and spoke,  
  
"Sloan here."  
  
"Lt. Sloan, this is Officer Gardner, traffic division. I believe you wanted to be kept up to speed on the incident you reported the other evening."  
  
"That's right," Steve answered, "have you made any progress?"  
  
"We have found the car and managed to get one good print from it."  
  
"Any matches?"  
  
"Not exactly," Officer Gardner replied.  
  
Steve's brow furrowed, "What do you mean 'not exactly'?"  
  
"There's nothing on the database with a name but there is a match with another recent car theft. We found an identical print in a silver grey Ford that had been stolen and dumped."  
  
Looking up, Steve saw Cheryl enter the squad room, and he held up a hand in acknowledgement of her greeting before speaking once more into the mouthpiece.  
  
"I have to go now, but thanks for ringing. Please keep me up to speed with the investigation."  
  
"What's up?" Cheryl jerked her head in the direction of the phone.  
  
Steve had already told her about the near miss and he quickly informed her about the contents of the phone call. Five minutes later they were on their way out of the precinct in search of a vagrant who might have been near the scene of a recent homicide.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Later that evening Steve stepped out of a very long shower and inhaled. He and Cheryl had found the vagrant and an afternoon spent in close proximity to him had left Steve feeling very itchy and desperate to get under a shower. Picking up his watch he checked the time. Hilary would be arriving in about an hour and Steve wanted to make sure that he was upstairs to greet her.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Following the carefully written instructions Hilary reached the house in plenty of time. She pulled up on the road and turned off the engine. Getting out of her car she glanced round at the houses which surrounded her and whistled under her breath. She had known that Steve lived in a very upmarket area but she hadn't realised just how nice it was. Turning, she walked through the gates, up the steps and rang the bell. Through the glass of the door Hilary saw a pair of black clad legs tread down the internal steps and open the door.  
  
"Hi there," Steve said, his deep, mellifluous voice flowing over her like a second skin.  
  
"You have a terrific house," Hilary replied.  
  
"Thank you," Steve replied, "but I really can't take the credit, it's Dads house. Come in."  
  
Stepping through the door Hilary followed Steve up the stairs and into the lounge.  
  
"Wow!" the exclamation escaped from Hilary as she caught sight of the ocean through the open doors.  
  
Steve smiled; he never ceased to enjoy each and everyone's reaction to the view when they first saw it. He guided Hilary towards the open door saying,  
  
"Come outside and have a better look."  
  
Coming to a halt at the handrail Hilary looked around her, "Oh Steve, this is stunning. Now I understand why you love living here so much."  
  
"Mmm, the view is spectacular," he responded, his breath warm on her face.  
  
Hilary turned her head, realising that Steve was looking at her and not the ocean. She blushed and was about to speak when Steve bent his head and kissed her. She swayed in towards his body and Steve's arms snaked around her waist. They stood there for a long while gently kissing and it was only on hearing footsteps behind them that they drew apart. Steve kept one arm around Hilary's waist as they both turned to greet the newcomer. Hilary saw an older, distinguished version of Steve standing in front of her.  
  
"Dad," Steve spoke, "this is Hilary."  
  
Mark stepped forward and held his hand out.  
  
"Hilary, it's good to meet you," he said.  
  
"It's good to meet you too Mr. Sloan," Hilary responded, "I've heard a lot of good things about you."  
  
"Call me Mark," he replied.  
  
"When are Jesse and Amanda due dad?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"Anytime now," Mark answered, looking at his watch, "I don't suppose Jess will allow Amanda to be too late, especially as there is food involved."  
  
Steve laughed, "Do you think he'll ever grow out of that?" "I hope not," Mark replied, in all seriousness, "it's part of his charm."  
  
Just as Steve was about to reply the doorbell rang again and Mark said, "I'll get it."  
  
Hilary was beginning to feel a little nervous and rubbed her, suddenly perspiring, hands together. Steve noted this and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder saying, "Don't worry it will be fine."  
  
Hilary shot a smile at him and did her best to relax. Even though being with Steve had gone a fair way to restoring her confidence, she still felt unsure about meeting new people. It was a legacy from the time when Simon kept a tight rein on her, both physically and emotionally. She soon discovered that Steve was right and Jesse, Mark and Amanda were very friendly and extremely easy to on with.  
  
After a beautifully cooked meal they all retired to the lounge with their coffee and sat talking, with Steve making sure that he and Hilary sat together his arms protectively around her. Many times she hovered between hysterical laughter and almost disbelieving horror as the others recounted some of their exploits to her. Eventually Amanda looked up at the clock that sat over the fireplace and said, "I guess I'd better get going, the babysitter will be wanting to get home. Come on Jess."  
  
After saying their goodnights Mark saw them to the door. He re-entered the lounge a couple of minutes later saying, "I have an early shift in the morning so I'll be off to bed now. 'Night Steve. It was lovely to meet you Hilary."  
  
After he had disappeared Hilary looked at Steve and said, "I guess I'd better go as well."  
  
Turning in his seat, keeping his arm securely around Hilary's shoulders he said, "Do you really want to?"  
  
"Not really," she admitted.  
  
"Then stay," he answered, standing up and pulling Hilary after him.  
  
Together, hand in hand, they descended the internal staircase to Steve's apartment.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Jesse looked up as the door bell, that hung over the entrance to Bob's, tinkled. He smiled as he saw Steve entering the restaurant, his black leather jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder.  
  
"Hi Jess," he said, "how's business today?"  
  
"It's been good so far," Jesse answered, "the lunch crowd was better than we have had for a while and the takings for the week are up. We're doing well pal. How are things with you?"  
  
"I haven't been this happy in a long time Jess," Steve replied, "Hilary is great and we are getting on se well."  
  
"That's great Steve," Jesse answered, "When are you going to introduce me to one of her friends?"  
  
"I'll talk to them," Steve replied, "maybe we can double date sometime."  
  
"Great idea Steve!" Jesse enthused, "Just let me know when."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
The day had gone well for Hilary. Her students had been attentive, receptive and, to top it all off, they actually seemed to understand what she was trying to teach them. Her last class of the day were an exceptionally bright group and Hilary had decided they had risen to the challenge and had coped brilliantly.  
  
As she walked to her car Hilary was smiling. It had been a wonderful day and the icing on the cake was the fact that she had a date with Steve that evening. She drove home, her mind happily contemplating the evening ahead. Steve had told her that he was going to cook dinner just for the two of them. Intriguingly, he had also suggested that she bring along a swimsuit that she may, or may not, need.  
  
Arriving home Hilary made herself a cup of coffee and sat down in the large armchair by the window. Reaching down she pulled a pile of paper from her bag and began to grade some test papers. The papers were for her 7th grade class the next day and took her a couple of hours to mark giving her time for a quick shower before she left.  
  
Throwing her tote bag into the back of her car Hilary drove as quickly as she dared out to the beach house. She turned into the drive, parked and ran lightly up the external steps, ringing the doorbell. Through the glass she saw Mark descending the short flight of internal stairs and, on reaching the door; he reached out and pulled the door open. Giving Hilary a beaming smile he said,  
  
"Hilary, hi, it's good to see you. Steve is downstairs putting the final touches to your dinner. I hope you aren't expecting anything fancy, cooking is not one of Steve's finest talents."  
  
"But he owns a BBQ restaurant!" Hilary exclaimed.  
  
"And he employs a chef. The only thing that he and Jesse do is the special sauce," Mark answered, "and I have heard tell of the occasional burnt pot."  
  
"Maybe I should have eaten before I came," Hilary laughed.  
  
"Been praising my cooking again, huh dad?" came Steve's voice.  
  
Hilary turned to see Steve standing there with a tender smile of resignation on his face. He took a couple of steps forward and put an arm around Hilary placing a kiss on her upturned mouth. Looking deep into her eyes he said, "Hi there."  
  
As always, when Steve greeted her in this way, Hilary's stomach did a somersault and her mouth went dry.  
  
"I'd better get on with my paperwork," Mark said, realising that he was very much the third wheel, "I'll see you later."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Despite Mark's humorous warning the meal that Steve had prepared was actually very tasty. Afterwards they sat on the large, yet curiously, cosy sofa drinking wine and just watching the flames dance in the fireplace.  
  
"So," Hilary said eventually, "why did I need to bring my costume which, and I quote, I might or might not need?"  
  
Steve smiled as he placed his wine glass on the table next to him. Standing he held out his hand and pulled Hilary to her feet before leading her to the door that opened onto the beachfront garden. Pressing a switch on the right of the doorframe Hilary saw a large hot tub illuminated by a couple of soft spotlights.  
  
"I didn't realise that you had a hot tub," she exclaimed.  
  
"No," Steve drawled, "last time you were here we had other things on our minds."  
  
"Oh yeah," Hilary blushed, a trait which Steve found utterly endearing.  
  
"So," Steve turned to face Hilary," what do you say? Fancy a dip?"  
  
"I'd love to," Hilary replied, then a thought struck her, "'may or may not, huh?"  
  
"It's up to you sweetheart," Steve replied, "I'm happy either way."  
  
Hilary thought for a moment and then made up her mind.  
  
"It's a shame to get the costume wet when it is all nice and dry in my bag. Do you have a robe I can use though?"  
  
"Sure," Steve replied, "there's a spare one on the hook behind the bathroom door. I change in my room. Meet me back here in a few minutes."  
  
In the bathroom Hilary quickly stripped off her clothes and laid them in a neat pile on top of the laundry basket. Pulling on the robe, she tied the belt around her waist and opened the door. Walking into the lounge she found Steve waiting for her, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. Hilary smiled and moved to stand next to him.  
  
"Ready?" he asked.  
  
As Hilary nodded Steve pushed open the door with his hip, standing back to allow her to go through first. Coming to a halt next to the hot tub Hilary shivered.  
  
"Hil, are you sure you are happy? You can wear your costume if you want." Steve was concerned.  
  
"I'm fine Steve, just a little nervous. Actually, it's always been a fantasy of mine to be naked in a hot tub, especially," she cast a glance up at Steve from under her lashes, "if it was to be with a devastatingly handsome man."  
  
"Never mind," Steve chuckled, "one out of two ain't bad. Would you prefer it if I got in first?"  
  
"Please," Hilary replied.  
  
Putting the wine and the glasses down on the wooden ledge Steve undid the belt to his robe and pushed it off of his shoulders allowing it to ripple down his muscular body until it lay, in a mound on the floor. Hilary watched him climb into the hot tub and lower his body down into the water until all that was to be seen above the surface were his shoulders and head. Hilary found that her breath caught in the back of her throat and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Steve looked across at Hilary and held his hand out to her. Taking a deep breath Hilary undid her belt, with slightly shaky fingers, and slid the robe off of her shoulders letting it drop to the floor to join Steve's. This time it was Steve's breath that caught in his throat.  
  
Climbing in, Hilary lowered herself until she touched a shaped seat about eighteen inches from the surface of the water. She lay her arms along the ledge and hooked her hands over the edge and held on, her knuckles white. Steve smiled and handed her a glass of wine which she gratefully took. For a long while they sat, enjoying the sensations the softly bubbling water were creating and chatting about nothing in particular. The sun had long gone down and the only light was from the two spotlights reflecting off of the water and their wet skin.  
  
Their conversation gradually petered out and silence took over. The water seemed to be making Hilary's skin feel warm and tingly. Or was it the fact that Steve had begun to gently run his foot up and down her thighs? Very quickly Hilary decided that it was the latter as she gave herself up to the sensation. Eventually Hilary began to mirror those movements with one of her own. In a move that surprised even her, when her foot reached the top of Steve's thigh Hilary trailed her toes over the top and down into his lap. Steve's eyes widened at her exploits and his own foot stilled as Hilary's continued it's journey of exploration up, down and around. In the end, not wanting to conclude this particular voyage alone, Steve raised his head from where it had fallen backwards and reached out for Hilary. She floated gently across the hot tub towards him hovering gently astride his lap as Steve moulded his hands around her waist and held her there. Hilary leant forward and pressed her mouth against his, slowly moving her lips against his. The kiss gradually increased in intensity as, his eyes fixed firmly on hers; Steve began to lower Hilary towards his waiting hips. As their two bodies melded into one Hilary gave a gasp of pleasure which was barely audible against Steve's mouth. For a long while they remained motionless except for their mouths which were exploring one another's with increasing passion.  
  
Steve gradually became aware that Hilary was no longer still, her hips had begun gyrating against his and he too began to move causing tiny ripples to flow across the surface of the water. He put out a hand, blindly reaching for the switch which filled the hot tub with a seething mass of bubbles which bombarded their already highly sensitised skin. He had to grasp Hilary's hips again as the bubbles threatened to have her float away from him. Again Hilary moaned against his mouth as he slowly brought her back down again, continuing the up and down movement until Hilary's hip movements changed direction, from circular to backwards and forwards. Steve's movements also took on a more urgent quality until it was impossible to distinguish where the bubbles ended and the surf-like waves began. Their desire rising with every second, they managed to keep pace with each other until neither could hold back any longer. Gradually the waves receded until only the bubbles were left. Lifting Hilary off his lap Steve sat her next to him cradling her in the crook of his arm, her face resting against his wildly beating heart.  
  
"Wow," Hilary breathed, "that has added a whole new dimension to my hot tub fantasy."  
  
Steve chuckled and then groaned as the shrill sound of his phone could be heard through the open door.  
  
"Ignore it," Hilary urged.  
  
"Wish I could," Steve replied, reluctantly disentangling himself and stepping out of the water, "but it could be urgent. I won't be long."  
  
Leaning down to quickly kiss her, Steve wrapped his robe around him and went to answer the phone. The sudden silence told Hilary that he had answered it and she stretched her arms out and rested her head on the sill of the hot tub. From inside Steve's apartment Hilary heard a dull thud and called out,  
  
"Steve, are you alright?"  
  
Receiving no answer Hilary was about to investigate when a pair of hands descended on her shoulders and began a sensuous journey across them. For a few seconds Hilary relaxed against those hands and then, prompted by some sixth sense that she hadn't been aware of having, she looked up into the cold, calculating gaze of someone she had never thought to see again, Simon. Shock held her immobile for a second or two and then she opened her mouth to scream. The sound never got past her throat as a chloroform soaked rag was held against her mouth. The last thing she remembered hearing before she slid under the water was Simon saying,  
  
"He can never love you like I do."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Steve shivered as he slowly came to lying on the floor of his apartment. He sat up, grimacing as his head protested at the movement. Leaning back against the sofa, waiting for his head to stop swimming, he tried to remember how he had come to be there and why he was feeling so cold. He looked down and saw that the robe he was wearing had fallen open exposing him to the cold air that was drifting in from the open door. Remembrance suddenly came to him causing him, rather unwisely as he found out, to jump to his feet. Swaying slightly Steve stumbled towards the door and out to the hot tub. He didn't know whether to be relieved or not when he realised that it was empty.  
  
Pulling his robe around him Steve slowly and carefully went back inside and made his way upstairs. He softly knocked on his dad's bedroom door and leaned against the wall until he heard movement inside. Opening the door Steve called softly, Dad?"  
  
"Steve?" came Mark's voice into the darkness, "Are you alright?"  
  
"No Dad, I need some help." Steve replied, his voice weak as nausea threatened to overcome him and he leant against the wall for support.  
  
Clicking on his bedside light Mark looked across at his son and, within seconds, was out of bed and guiding Steve back to sit down on it. Quickly examining the wound that he found on the side of Steve's head Mark disappeared from the bedroom to return a few seconds later with his black bag. Opening it up he took out a small bottle and tipped out a couple of pills. Pouring a glass of water he handed both to Steve with the instructions, "Take these."  
  
Whilst Steve obeyed Mark started to clean the wound and put a temporary dressing on it.  
  
"Are you up to getting dressed son?" he asked, "I think you need to go to the Emergency Room and get that properly looked at."  
  
"I can't dad," Steve spoke for the first time, "I must get to the precinct."  
  
"You can phone it in on the way to the hospital and get someone to meet you there." Mark was insistent. ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Forty minutes later Steve was sat, protesting vehemently, as Jesse placed half a dozen stitches to close up the wound.  
  
"I've gotta find Hilary, Jess," he said.  
  
"I know Steve," Jesse gently pushing his friend back onto the exam table, "but you won't be of any use to anyone if you pass out or start bleeding all over everyone."  
  
Reluctantly Steve forced himself to sit quietly but exhorted his friend to, "Damn well hurry up."  
  
The door opened and Cheryl entered the room.  
  
"Steve, are you alright? What happened?"  
  
"I don't know exactly." Steve replied, "I was clobbered as I was answering the phone and when I came to Hilary had gone."  
  
"Was there a sign of a struggle?" Cheryl asked.  
  
"I don't think so," replied Steve, "but I wasn't in a fit enough state to notice. We'll need to get CSU over there."  
  
"Already on their way," Cheryl confirmed, "your dad has gone back to the beach house to let them in."  
  
"Who do you think it could be?" Jesse asked, "Has anyone you put away been let out recently?"  
  
"Why would they take Hilary?" Steve questioned.  
  
"Come on Steve," Jesse retorted, "you, of all people, should know that the best way to get at someone is to take something or someone they love."  
  
Despite the pain from his wound and his anxiety over Hilary, Steve could not help but smile at Jesse's response for he knew that he was right.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
It was the pounding in her head that finally brought Hilary awake. Instinctively she reached up to rub her hand across her forehead and winced in pain as something metal hit her on the temple. She opened her eyes and frowned as they focused, somewhat fuzzily, on a pair of handcuffs one side attached to her wrist whilst the other was attached to what looked like a long chain. The incongruousness of the situation, for a moment, fogged her brain until, suddenly, she remembered what had happened. Like Steve, many miles away, she sat up heedless of the pain that shot through her head.  
  
"Simon!" she exclaimed.  
  
From a dark corner of the room came a voice,  
  
"Hello Hilary. It's good to see you again."  
  
"Simon, why are you doing this?"  
  
"Because we belong together."  
  
It was the calm way in which Simon uttered those words which made Hilary realise just how dangerous the situation was. Simon had always been possessive of her but this had taken his obsession to the next level. For the first time since she had met Steve, Hilary felt very, very afraid.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Steve argued long and hard with Jesse to be allowed to leave Community General once his wound had been dressed. Much to his disgust he lost and was installed in one of the rooms on the third floor.  
  
"I don't want to be here," Steve protested once more as Jesse pushed his legs down under the covers.  
  
"I know you don't," Jesse replied, sighing at the thought of having the same argument for the fourth time that evening. "However, you may have a concussion and I want you under observation for the next twelve hours at least."  
  
As Steve opened his mouth to protest Jesse's temper finally snapped, "You are NOT the only cop in LA who has the capability to find Hilary. Now lie still and give my ears a rest."  
  
Finally Steve subsided, realising that he had seriously irritated his friend. He also acknowledged, grudgingly, that he wasn't indispensable in the search for Hilary. Leaning back against the pillows Steve tried to relax.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
As soon as Jesse had given him the all clear the next morning Steve made Mark drive him directly to the precinct.  
  
"What have you found out?" he barked at Cheryl almost before he had set foot through the door of the squad room.  
  
Looking at his face Cheryl wisely refrained from making a smart reply, instead giving him a concise rundown of her overnight investigations.  
  
"We got uniform to canvass the local houses." she began, "They weren't terribly thrilled at being woken up."  
  
"Tough," Steve's response was succinct.  
  
Cheryl grinned and continued, "We were lucky though. One young man was in his kitchen getting a late night snack when he saw a man placing something in the trunk of his car and then driving off. He couldn't tell the make of the car but he remembered some of the license plate. We ran it through the computer and have come up with a name and address."  
  
"What are we waiting for?" Steve demanded, "Let's go."  
  
At this point Mark felt that he ought to protest a little.  
  
"Steve," he said, "do you really think that you are up to chasing about after suspects?"  
  
Steve didn't answer he simply threw his father a withering look as he brushed by him on his way to the door.  
  
"Don't worry Mark, I'll look after him," Cheryl assured the worried father.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
After a brief argument as to who would drive, an argument which Cheryl won, Steve had remained silent throughout the whole journey. Although he was silent he was restless, shifting endlessly about in his seat. After a while even the normally placid Cheryl could take no more.  
  
"For goodness sake Steve! If you move your butt around on my upholstery much more you will wear it out. Sit still!!!"  
  
Steve subsided.  
  
Arriving at the address that the computer had come up with, Steve and Cheryl walked up the driveway to the single storey, detached house. Steve knocked on the door and they both waited. Footsteps were heard coming closer to the front door and it opened with a slight creak of its hinges. A young woman carrying a small baby in her arms stood there a look of puzzlement on her face.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked.  
  
"My name is Detective Banks," Cheryl spoke, holding out her ID, "and this is Lieutenant Steve Sloan. May we speak to Clive Wilson?"  
  
"Why?" the woman replied, without moving at all.  
  
"We would like to speak to Mr. Wilson about his car." Steve answered.  
  
"My husband has just gone to the store for some diapers," the young woman replied, "he will be back in a while."  
  
"May we come in and wait?" Cheryl asked.  
  
"I suppose so," Mrs. Wilson answered, stepping reluctantly out of the way and allowing Steve and Cheryl to enter the house.  
  
They followed her along a narrow passageway which led into a lounge which was small but well kept. The TV sitting in the corner of the room was playing one of the many children's cartoon channels and a small girl was sitting in front of it, absorbed in the antics of Chucky, Tommy and friends. She looked up briefly as Steve and Cheryl entered the room and then looked back at the screen.  
  
Carla Wilson deposited the baby in a rocker, turned to Steve and Cheryl and asked,  
  
"Exactly what did you want to ask my husband?"  
  
Before either of them had a chance to answer, the front door opened and a voice called out,  
  
"You can stop holding your nose now honey, I have the diapers."  
  
"Clive," Carla called out, "there are some people here to see you."  
  
A youngish, good looking man entered the living, his arms filled with three large packs of diapers. Dropping them on the sofa he looked across at Steve and Cheryl and asked,  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Holding out his ID, Steve replied, "Lt. Steve Sloan and this is Detective Banks."  
  
"What can I do for you officers?"  
  
"It's about your car Mr. Wilson," Cheryl answered.  
  
"Which one?" Clive replied.  
  
"You have more than one car?" Steve asked.  
  
"I have a company car and we also have a smaller one, that's the one which is outside now. My wife uses it." he answered.  
  
At this point Carla spoke, "You mean that you hope you still have a company car. For all you know Simon has trashed it and left it on the side of the road somewhere."  
  
Steve's head snapped round to look at Carla and with alarm bells the size of Big Ben ringing in his ears asked,  
  
"Simon? Simon who?"  
  
A little confused at the tone in his voice Clive answered, "Simon Mitchell. He is a friend from high school and he has recently returned to LA."  
  
Steve uttered a single word expletive that caused Cheryl's eyebrows to raise and the little girl in front of the TV to say,  
  
"Man said bad word," before returning her concentration to the TV.  
  
"I still don't understand," Clive spoke again, "exactly what is the problem?"  
  
"Steve?" Cheryl, never having been told of Hilary's history with Simon, was equally mystified.  
  
"A young woman, Hilary Bennington was kidnapped the other night," Steve began, "and your car, Mr. Wilson, was identified as being in the area at the time."  
  
"Can you tell us why Mr. Mitchell wanted to borrow your car?" Cheryl asked.  
  
"He said that he had something to move and he needed a car with a decent size trunk," Clive answered; his face a little pale at the realisation of what it was that Simon needed to move.  
  
"Hilary Bennington?" Carla broke in, looking at her husband, "Wasn't she the woman that Simon was going out with just before he left LA?"  
  
"Did he ever say why they broke up?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"Not really," admitted Clive, "but I don't think it was amicable."  
  
"That's an understatement," Steve muttered under his breath.  
  
"Do you happen to have an address for him?" Cheryl asked.  
  
"7520 Southchurch Boulevard," Carla answered, "and when you find him can you ask him to return our car?"  
  
"I plan to ask him a lot more than that," Steve replied grimly, causing both Carla and Clive to feel very grateful that they weren't in this mans bad books.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
"Simon please," Hilary pleaded.  
  
Ignoring her words and the tone in her voice, Simon continued with what he was doing. For the third morning he locked one half of a set of handcuffs around Hilary's left wrist, before undoing the one that encircled her right wrist. Dropping the discarded one onto the pillow next to dent where Hilary's head had lain he stepped back.  
  
He had criss-crossed the house with chains, each with a set of handcuffs attached to one end. One chain allowed Hilary full use of the bedroom and bathroom, another one gave her the run of the lounge, whilst the third allowed her access to the kitchen. At first, she had thought about the possibility of banging on the window at the front of the house to gain someone's attention. Unfortunately she was thwarted in this on two counts. The first was that the chain wasn't long enough; she was brought up at least six inches short of the window. However, a quick glance through the window had made her realise that knocking on it would have been to no avail as the house was in a large clearing, surrounded by trees. She decided to try again to plead with Simon.  
  
"Simon, let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone. I'll tell Steve that I needed to get away for a few days and I won't mention your name. Please Simon."  
  
Hilary's voice faded away as Simon looked up straight into her face. His eyes were expressionless, but the words he spoke belied that coolness.  
  
"I am trying to keep you safe my darling. There are men out there who would take advantage of your naivety, just like that muscle bound beach boy I saved you from the other night."  
  
For a few seconds Hilary was tempted to defend Steve and then decided not to. Firstly she knew that, despite Simons cool exterior over the last couple of days, he had a nasty temper. She also decided to keep quiet in case she let slip that Steve was a cop, a fact that she felt Simon was unaware of and something she thought could be used to her advantage.  
  
"How long are we going to stay here?" she asked.  
  
"Until people have forgotten about us," he replied, "then we can go somewhere different and start our new life together."  
  
Unable to restrain herself, Hilary snapped out,  
  
"What if I don't want a life with you?" stepping back as a flash of anger, quickly extinguished, crossed Simons face.  
  
"But you will, my darling," his voice was silky smooth, "I will convince you."  
  
Hilary had moved into the lounge and stood rubbing her right wrist which, after two nights, was a little sore from the constant rubbing metal against skin. She shivered a little in fear and decided to ask, once more, for some clothes.  
  
"You don't need clothes," Simon asserted, "it's warm enough in here and there is no-one else to see you so you have no need to feel embarrassed."  
  
Thinking that it had nothing to do with warmth and everything to do with intimidation that made Simon keep her in her underwear, Hilary walked towards the kitchen and held her hands for the exchange of handcuffs. Once done, she moved through the door and began to prepare the food.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
As they drove to the address provided by the Wilson's, Cheryl spent time in persuading Steve not to go in all guns blazing, either metaphorically or literally. She also took some time to call in and arrange for back-up to meet them there.  
  
Pulling in to the kerb about half a block from the address Steve turned off the engine and leapt out of the car, closely followed by Cheryl. Four uniformed officers were standing by two black and whites and when they saw Steve and Cheryl they moved to meet them.  
  
"What's up Lieutenant?" one asked.  
  
Succinctly Steve explained the situation and what he wanted each of them to do. In pairs the uniformed officers peeled off, the first pair making for the back of the house whilst the other two took up position behind a couple of parked cars at the front. Pulling on their Kevlar vests Steve and Cheryl crept carefully up the path towards the front of the house. Peering in the windows there it was obvious that those rooms were empty so they moved round to the side of the house.  
  
Stopping either side of a side door Steve rubbed one hand across his forehead as a gentle ache began to make itself felt.  
  
"Are you okay?" Cheryl asked.  
  
Waving off her concern with a dismissive flick of his wrist Steve reached out for the handle of the door, slowly turning it. Gradually the door opened and Steve moved inside as soon as the gap was wide enough. Cheryl sighed and went in after him.  
  
Looking around the kitchen Steve was dismayed to note all the signs of at least a couple of days of disuse. There was washing up sitting in the sink will the remnants of a meal slowly congealing. Moving carefully through the house he checked out the hall noting, as he passed through, the pile of post sitting by the front door. The lounge, too, bore all the hallmarks of an unoccupied residence. He stopped in the middle of the room and sighed.  
  
"They aren't here Cheryl," he said, the tone in his voice so miserable that it almost broke his partners heart.  
  
"I'm sorry Steve," she said moving closer and laying a hand on his arm.  
  
It was at that point that the dull ache in Steve's head turned to a sharp throb, the colour drained from his face as his knees gave way underneath him.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Mark Sloan sat behind his desk shuffling pieces of paper backwards and forwards across its surface. He was supposed to be grading student papers, but he couldn't seem to focus on it. His thoughts were, primarily, with his son although there was portion of his heart that went out to Hilary. He, himself, had on a couple of occasions been kidnapped and he knew how it felt.  
  
The phone on his desk, hidden underneath a mountain of paperwork, began to ring. As Mark reached out to answer it he inadvertently tipped it all on the floor and he muttered something under his breath as he picked up the receiver.  
  
"Mark Sloan. Oh, hi Jess," he began then, as the voice of his young friend came through the phone at him, he leapt out of the chair and was out of his office in a trice.  
  
Rushing along the corridor Mark didn't bother waiting for the elevator. On reaching a doorway he did a sharp ninety degree left turn and virtually ran down two flights of stairs to the ER. He erupted through the door onto another corridor and came to a screeching halt outside a large swing door. He looked through the small window and was relieved to see that Steve was sitting up, although his head was laid back against the headrest and what Mark could see of his face looked very pale. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and Mark jumped. Turning, he saw Cheryl standing next to him.  
  
"What happened Cheryl?" he asked.  
  
"We went to a house where we though Hilary might be. Unfortunately it was empty and had been for a couple of days. Steve suddenly went pale and passed out. I called it in and we came straight here."  
  
"Thanks Cheryl, "Mark hugged her, "I'd better get in there."  
  
Before he could move, the door opened and Jesse exited the examination room.  
  
"How is he Jess?"  
  
"He's fine Mark," Jesse replied, "I think he had built himself up to finding Hilary at that house and when he didn't, he passed out. I have checked him over and I think he just needs some rest and not to chase about for a while."  
  
"Good luck with that one," Cheryl answered.  
  
Mark, however, was as much a force to be reckoned with as his son and an hour later Steve found himself, much to his disgust and against his wishes, back at the beach house under his father's eagle eye. He did, however, have a partial victory in that he was tucked up on the sofa rather than in bed.  
  
"Have CSU reported back on what they found here?" he asked.  
  
Deciding that a little information may help to keep him calm and on the sofa Mark replied,  
  
"I spoke to Captain Newman and he said that they found traces of chloroform in the hot tub water, which makes them think that Hilary was rendered unconscious. They also found a couple of fingerprints," Mark paused before continuing, "they have found a match."  
  
"Mitchell?" Steve was hopeful.  
  
Mark shook his head," Apparently the fingerprints matched those found in the car which nearly hit Hilary outside her apartment and also in a silver grey Ford."  
  
"So he must have been following Hilary around," Steve was thoughtful, "but what I don't understand is why those fingerprints haven't been matched to Mitchell. They must be on file from when he was arrested."  
  
"How long did he get for raping Hilary?" Mark asked.  
  
"I don't know dad," Steve replied, "I'll get in touch with Marsha a little later."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
"You have to be kidding me!" Mark heard Steve's raised voice from the kitchen where he was making them both a sandwich.  
  
Picking up the tray with the food and two large mugs of coffee on it Mark made his way back into the lounge in time to see Steve replace the receiver back on its cradle a look of utter incomprehension on his face. He looked up at his father and Mark raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
  
"She didn't report it!" he was incredulous, "Hilary didn't report the rape. What was she thinking?"  
  
"I don't suppose that she was thinking straight at all son." Mark answered, setting the tray down on the small table, "Many rapes go unreported for all sorts of reasons and from what I can understand about Hilary's relationship with Simon I would guess that there was a lot of fear involved and a feeling that, somehow, she deserved it."  
  
"No-one deserves that dad," Steve responded.  
  
"You know that and so do I," Mark replied, "but that is not how a lot of women are made to feel by the men who do that to them."  
  
Steve looked serious, "I just hope that we can find her before Mitchell manages to mess with her brain again."  
  
As Mark began to speak the phone rang and as he moved to answer it Steve laid his head back against the soft cushions of the sofa.  
  
"Mark Sloan," he said, listening intently to the voice at the other end, "Yes, Steve is here. OK, send him over."  
  
He put the phone down and said, "That was Jim Newman. He has had to hand the case over to the FBI and they are sending an agent over to speak to you."  
  
When no answer came from his son Mark turned and saw that Steve, his head still resting against the cushions, had fallen asleep. Mark smiled for, despite his years, Steve still managed to retain a 'boylike' quality in repose.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Thirty minutes late a figure wearing a dark grey suit trod confidently up the stone steps leading to the Sloan residence. He raised his hand to ring the bell but was forestalled by the door opening and a man, with a finger to his lips obviously requesting silence, beckoned him in and led him quietly through to the kitchen. Once the kitchen door had closed behind them a large grin spread across Marks face and he held out a hand saying,  
  
"Ron Wagner!" he began, "It's good to see you. How long have you been back?"  
  
Returning Marks smile with one of his own, Ron took his outstretched hand and shook it vigorously, "I've been back a couple of months and, no, I haven't seen Amanda. I did try to phone but she hasn't returned my calls."  
  
"Ah," Mark wisely did not pursue that avenue of conversation, instead choosing to focus on Hilary's disappearance, "So, I take it you have been brought up to speed with what is going on?"  
  
"I have," Ron replied, "but I really need to talk to Steve."  
  
"He's asleep at the moment," Mark answered, "why don't we have a coffee and wait until he wakes up."  
  
"Make that three coffees dad," Steve's voice came from the doorway.  
  
"I'm sorry son," Mark apologised, "did we wake you up?"  
  
"No, I was coming to anyway when I heard your voices," Steve assured his father, then he looked over at the other occupant of the kitchen and continued, "How are you Ron? Long time no see."  
  
"I've been busy," Ron dismissed, in much the same fashion as Steve would, the numerous hazardous assignments he had undertaken.  
  
"Have you come up with any new information?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"Give me a chance Steve," Ron protested, "I've only been on the case for a couple of hours."  
  
"And Hilary has been missing for a couple of days!" Steve shot back.  
  
"Steve," Marks voice stopped his son before he had a chance to let rip.  
  
Steve had the grace to look shamefaced and he apologised, "Sorry Ron, I guess I am a little rattled."  
  
"I understand." Ron answered, "Now what can you tell me about the situation?"  
  
"Before he does," Mark put in, "let's take our coffee back into the lounge and talk there."  
  
The three men made their way to the lounge and, having made themselves comfortable, Steve told Ron everything he knew about Hilary and her relationship with Simon."  
  
"I'll have some men go through Mitchell's house with a fine toothcomb," he said when Steve had finished speaking, "I will also arrange for an appeal to be broadcast for any information."  
  
"We need to get in into the papers as well," Steve responded.  
  
"Tomorrow," Mark was firm, "I think that's enough for tonight."  
  
As Ron stood up to leave he said, "Don't worry Steve, we'll find her."  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Two days later Steve was sitting at his desk trying, and failing, to concentrate of the report in front of him. The words on the page could have been in a foreign language for all the sense they were making to him. He sighed deeply and was about to try again when the phone rang. Raising his eyes heavenwards in a silent prayer of thanks for his deliverance Steve snatched up the receiver.  
  
"Sloan here. ....Oh, hello Ron....Where? I'll meet you there in forty minutes."  
  
He almost threw the receiver back down into its cradle and was out of the door faster than anyone had seen him move in the last forty eight hours.  
  
At something under his predicted forty minutes, having sailed very close to the speed limit, Steve drew up outside a row of single storey offices. Locking his car he strode into one which was in the centre of the block. As he entered the office Ron Wagner, who was leaning over one of the desks, stood up and greeted him.  
  
"What have you got?" after four days without a word about Hilary, Steve was in no mood for social niceties.  
  
"Mr. Archer here," Ron began, indicating a small, bespectacled man, "recognised Simon Mitchell's photograph and contacted the Bureau."  
  
"Why did it take so long?" Steve was brusque, almost to the point of rudeness.  
  
Nervously pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose Mr. Archer spoke, "I have been ill in bed for a couple of days and I only saw the paper this morning."  
  
Belatedly realising that his manner was less than polite, Steve apologised, "I hope that you are feeling better. What can you tell me?"  
  
Looking up at Ron, who nodded, Terence Archer began.  
  
"A couple of weeks ago a man came in enquiring about our properties for hire. He was particularly interested in places which were more remote saying that he was a writer and needed somewhere secluded."  
  
"How long a lease did he take?" Steve asked.  
  
"He hired the house for an initial six month period, with the option of a further three."  
  
"So what are we waiting for?" Steve wanted to know, "Let's go."  
  
"We are not going to go rushing in," Ron was firm, "We are going to take our time and do this thing properly."  
  
With a brief word of thanks to Terence Archer, Ron led Steve out of the building. As the door closed behind them Steve turned to Ron and said, "Where are they?"  
  
Snorting, Ron replied, "If you think that I am going to give you the address so that you can go tearing off like John Wayne you have got another think coming. We are going back to the office and sort out a plan which will ensure Hilary's safe release."  
  
So saying he got into his car and switched his engine on, waiting until Steve had done same before pulling away.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
After four days of having nothing to do but read the same few magazines, cook the meals, look out of the windows and sleep, Hilary was almost at screaming point. She simply wasn't used to having nothing to keep herself occupied with, either mentally or physically. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to be calmness personified and it was this calmness which was most disturbing. In all the time that she had known Simon, Hilary had never seen him keep his temper for so long and she was waiting for him to blow.  
  
Hilary sat looking out of the window and in her minds eye she could see Steve, smiling at her. Suddenly, and for no reason that she could fathom, she was aware of a feeling of happiness wash over her. A feeling that had nothing to do with the fact that she was thinking about Steve. Somehow, she knew that Steve was on his way to save her. Before she could halt it a small gasp had escaped her. Simon looked up from where he was reading, for the tenth time, a battered copy of Time magazine.  
  
"What's the matter?" he demanded.  
  
For a second Hilary's mind went blank and she looked across at Simon not knowing what to say.  
  
"Well?" Simon demanded.  
  
"I had a sudden pain in my stomach," she improvised, "you know, my period."  
  
Simon looked across at her, a look of mild horror in his eyes. Hilary knew that she struck gold as she suddenly remembered that any mention of a woman's reproductive cycle made Simon very uncomfortable. Inwardly Hilary smiled, this was good.  
  
"Have you got anything that I can use?" she asked.  
  
"No," Simons answer was short.  
  
"I'm going to need something very soon," Hilary persisted, "you are going to have to get me some."  
  
When he hesitated she carried on, "Do you really want me having a period with no protection?"  
  
At this delicately painted picture Simon visibly blanched and stood up.  
  
"Alright, but don't go getting any ideas while I am gone."  
  
Holding up a manacled wrist Hilary said, "Where am I going to go Simon?"  
  
Pulling on a jacket Simon left the house and a few seconds later Hilary heard the unmistakeable sounds of a car driving away. She laid her head against the sofa and for the first time in a while, relaxed.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Sitting in the passenger seat of Ron's car, Steve navigated whilst the other man drove. They were in the first of three cars, each one filled with armed FBI agents. During the previous twelve hours they had all been working flat out and they all knew, in detail, the layout of the house and the surrounding area. A couple of agents had also been despatched to do an initial survey of the area.  
  
As they were nearing the house they received a radio message that told them about Simon's unexpected exit from the house. Ron immediately ordered the agents in the last car to peel off and intercept him.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
Hilary groaned as she heard a car pull up, it seemed no time at all since Simon left. Actually, Hilary thought that it sounded like two cars but she assumed that it was the stress of the last few days making her hear things. She sat up as she heard footsteps getting nearer to the house but when she didn't hear the sound of the door opening she was surprised. The footsteps moved on round until they reached the back of the building. Hilary was confused, what on earth was Simon playing at?  
  
A scream was wrenched from her as the back door burst open and a tall, dark man, stood in the resulting gap.  
  
"Who are you?" she gasped.  
  
"His name is Ron Wagner and he's with me," spoke a familiar voice over his shoulder.  
  
"Steve!" Hilary squealed, leaping up out of her seat and moved towards him only to be pulled up short by the handcuff and chain.  
  
Quickly Steve covered the gap which separated them and wrapped his arms around her, covering her mouth with his in a kiss that conveyed more than words could ever hope to.  
  
"Get a hotel room why don't you?" Ron's voice came humorously from the doorway.  
  
"How did you find me?" Hilary asked from the depth of Steve's embrace.  
  
"The realtor who rented Simon the house recognised his photo," Steve answered.  
  
Recalling the situation Hilary said, "Simon! He will be back soon."  
  
As Steve hastened to reassure her Ron's radio crackled into life cutting across the conversation.  
  
"Mitchell has slipped by us and is on his way back."  
  
"Dammit!" Ron was furious, "Do you think that he saw you?"  
  
"Don't know," came the unhelpful answer.  
  
Quickly Ron ordered the two cars moved out of sight and the agents concealed themselves around the perimeter of the clearing. He and Steve remained in the house, Ron moving into the bedroom whilst Steve slid out of sight in the kitchen. He hated the thought of leaving Hilary sitting in the lounge, vulnerable but as Simon had the keys to the handcuffs there wasn't much they could do in the time they had.  
  
A few minutes later the sound of another car slowly driving up to the house penetrated the hearing of all three people inside the house. Hilary swivelled her head to look at Steve who winked and grinned at her in silent encouragement before quickly disappearing as the sound of a key in the lock was heard. As the door opened and Simon stepped into the lounge Hilary knew at once that he had either seen the FBI agents or had, in some way, sensed a problem. His face had that pinched angry look which Hilary remembered all too well.  
  
"That didn't take long," she spoke, hoping to keep Simons attention on her long enough for Ron or Steve to do something.  
  
Simon moved further into the room, his eyes darting around as if he were half expecting to see something out of place.  
  
"Did you get them?" Hilary persisted, "I think that I need to use one right away."  
  
In the bedroom Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to keep his legs from cramping. Unfortunately as he moved one of the buttons on his jacket knocked lightly against the doorframe. As soft as the sound was it echoed into the silence of the lounge. Ron grimaced as he heard a voice say,  
  
"You'd better get out here now before I hurt her."  
  
Hearing those words Ron opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the lounge. In the back of his mind was the sort of reaction he might expect from Steve later, especially if something went wrong. He looked across the lounge straight into the cold eyes of Simon Mitchell. The second thing that he saw was the gun, which Mitchell held in one hand and was pressed against Hilary's temple, his other arm wrapped tightly around her neck. Instinctively Ron brought his gun hand up.  
  
"Drop it," Simon spat out, "or I will shoot."  
  
He tightened his grip around Hilary's throat and ground the muzzle of the gun into her temple causing her to whimper a little in terror and pain.  
  
"Simon......please," she pleaded.  
  
"Please what?" he said.  
  
"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you," Simon responded, rubbing a finger up and down Hilary's face causing her to flinch, "but if that's the only way we can be together then I will."  
  
Steve, standing in the kitchen, stilled the movement which he was about to make on hearing those words. It was not just a case of getting Hilary out safely; it was now about getting her out alive. Initially he had cursed Ron for making a noise but, honesty compelled him to admit that, it could very easily have been him. Watching what was happening via the reflection through the glass fronted cabinet on the far wall, Steve was able to see Ron carefully placing his gun down on the coffee table and sitting down on the sofa as instructed.  
  
"You're not the beach boy she was with the other night." Simon commented, "Where is he?"  
  
"He is in hospital," Ron improvised quickly, "you gave him a concussion the other night and he is under observation."  
  
At this news Hilary moaned softly, figuring that if she seemed to be affected by the news then Simon would be more willing to accept it as being true.  
  
"What a wimp!" Simon sneered, "One little tap on the head and beach boy is out for the count."  
  
Hilary heard the derisory tone and words Simon used about a man of whom she was very fond and something inside of her snapped. In his enjoyment of Steve's supposed misfortune Simon had loosened his hold around her neck and Hilary took advantage of this. She pulled away from him aiming a sharp, very hard kick at his shins as she did so.  
  
Ron leapt up for his gun as, at the same time, Steve stepped into the kitchen doorway gun raised. Hearing the noise from behind him Simon span, as best he could with the pain in his shins to see a very angry, but extremely controlled man, standing there.  
  
"Just put the gun down Mitchell," Steve ordered, "and no-one needs to get hurt."  
  
Glancing at Hilary over his shoulder Simon looked back at Steve and lowered his gun. Steve breathed a silent sigh of relief as he reached into his back pocket for his handcuffs.  
  
In slow motion, as he stepped forward, Steve saw Simon spin on his heels and raise his gun to point it straight at Hilary.  
  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
  
During all of this the agents outside, able to hear what was happening inside thanks to Ron's open radio frequency, had been slowly making their way closer to the house. Each one of them froze in their tracks horrified, as they heard from inside the building, three almost simultaneous shots ring out.  
  
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A solitary figure sat atop a cliff overlooking a large expanse of water. He sat, knees drawn up almost to his chin, his gaze flickering from point to point on the horizon as if searching for something. A couple of metres away sat a shiny, black motorcycle.  
  
In the time since Hilary's departure Steve had carried on with his life, even going out on the occasional date arranged by Jesse, but everyone who saw him knew that there was a part of him that was missing. It was just over six months since he had had to shoot Simon Mitchell, making it nearly a year since he and Hilary had met. Although Simon Mitchell had died in the exchange of fire, brought down by bullets from both his and Ron's weapons, Hilary had fortunately remained uninjured as she had managed to duck out of the way in time.  
  
Once again he had taken some leave and had ridden down to Scammons Lagoon, to watch the whales. Mark hadn't been sure about how good an idea it was for Steve to go alone and had tried to persuade him to take Jesse along. Steve had refused, insisting that this something he needed to do alone and, very reluctantly, Mark had agreed.  
  
Steve sat looking out over the water barely seeing the whales as they cavorted for the tourists in the boats. He was unaware that the baby whale he and Hilary had seen the previous year was back, once again nestling up to the boats to greet its friends and protectors. He was also oblivious to another lone figure walking along the cliff top towards him. Indeed it wasn't until the figure stopped right next to him and spoke, that he became aware of anything at all.  
  
"Hello Steve," said a voice strange to his ears, yet very familiar.  
  
Steve's head snapped around and he looked up into a pair of eyes that he had only seen recently in his dreams.  
  
"Hilary!" he exclaimed leaping to his feet and sweeping her into an embrace which threatened to squeeze all the breath out of her body.  
  
"I wasn't sure if you'd be pleased to see me," Hilary said as they both sat down on the blanket which Steve just managed to save from disappearing over the edge of the cliff.  
  
"Pleased to see you?" Steve echoed, a slightly disbelieving tone in his voice, "You have been in my thoughts every day since you left."  
  
He was silent for a moment and then said, "How did you know I was here?"  
  
"I spoke to your father and he told me that you had come here. Then, when I arrived, I only had to ask about a tall, handsome man riding a black motorbike and people directed me here."  
  
Turning so that he was facing her Steve said, "Where did you go? I rang Marsha a few times at the beginning and she said that no-one knew where you were. Knowing how close you all are I figured that you didn't want me to find you so I backed off."  
  
"Marsha was right," Hilary replied, "I didn't speak to anyone until a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't that I didn't want you to know where I was and what I was doing, rather it was that I didn't want to hear about you."  
  
Steve looked puzzled.  
  
"I knew," Hilary continued, "that if I heard about what you were doing and how you were I might have been tempted to come back and I knew that would have been wrong."  
  
"Wrong?" Steve queried.  
  
""Wrong for me, for us, at that point in time. I needed to get my head around what had happened and I mean really get my head around it rather than papering over the cracks and hoping that they didn't show through later."  
  
"And have you?"  
  
"I think so," Hilary answered, "you had already helped me along the road but the kidnapping had made me realise how vulnerable, emotionally, I still was. So I had to go away. I knew you didn't want me to go and didn't totally understand why, but you let me go anyway. I loved you for that."  
  
Steve held out a hand which Hilary took and they sat in silence for a long while.  
  
"You're right Hilary," Steve eventually spoke, "I didn't want you to go and it damn near broke my heart when you left, but I loved you too much to keep you with me when you needed so much to be able to leave."  
  
"That's why I came back," Hilary answered, "I had only ever experienced the kind of love which Simon showed me. It was a jealous, controlling kind of love and he wanted to keep me all to himself. You showed me the other face of love. The sort of love what makes you want what's best for the one you care for, even if it means giving them up."  
  
"Are you back to stay?" Steve asked, half fearful of what the answer might be.  
  
Reaching up with her free hand Hilary cupped Steve's face and leant forward to kiss him.  
  
"I am back for as long as you want me to be," she murmured against his lips.  
  
"That's going to be for a long, long time," Steve replied, deepening the kiss and telling Hilary without the need for words, just what his heart was feeling.  
  
THE END 


End file.
